<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>an angel cried by judesrivers</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28984905">an angel cried</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/judesrivers/pseuds/judesrivers'>judesrivers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Beatles (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Tragedy, Bottom John Lennon, John is adorable, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Paul is um special, Possessive Behavior, Psych Ward, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Paul McCartney, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, You either hate Paul or love him there’s no in between, lets say he's a closed off individual, of course</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:20:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>164,336</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28984905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/judesrivers/pseuds/judesrivers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul had anger issues sometimes when he was a kid, and of course he'd go to certain limits of harming people whenever he lashed out. There was no telling how a certain uncontrollable dark feeling that swarmed him sometimes would overcome him by his adulthood. However, he did not find it repulsive which was strange enough.</p>
<p>A lot of innocent young men did not know what they were getting themselves into when Paul would flash a pretty smile at them, and plan some meetups with them as well, only for the young men to never resurface ever again. Families in crisis, a pandemic surging through Liverpool with already little to no evidence to keep the investigations at float. Paul going on with his days with his best friend George as if nothing happened.</p>
<p>And then, John fucking Lennon interrupts his dark life.</p>
<p>(Please read notes if you click.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Lennon/Paul McCartney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>145</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243629">my hand around your throat like you're wrapped around my finger</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawlesswritings/pseuds/lawlesswritings">lawlesswritings</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>back at it with the heavy angst stories :)<br/>yeah you probably seen me ranting &amp; raving about this on tumblr but here's the first piece!<br/>the second chapter is finished already so expect that like tomorrow? or the day after. </p>
<p>alsooo this has a lot of violence innit, &amp; ofc i don't look at paul as if he's a psychotic serial killer, as if that baby boy could harm anybody. it's just a concept that's all. </p>
<p>also also, this isn't as sick as you'd think it would be like there's no sick fetishization shit like necrophilia (or any other disgusting fetishization) or anything in here. that's disgusting, and very disturbing on many levels.</p>
<p>anyway, excuse the errors!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ways of picking out the serial killer from a basket full of clones? Well, they all look alike so would it be <em>that</em> hard?</p><p>Sometimes, plucking one out with your hand over your eyes can be strangely accurate, and really obvious at times.</p><p>The usual killer has these kinds of traits: being a murderer, lack of empathy, very narcissistic, and much more to the eye but let's stick with these main ones.</p><p>From the three reasons that had been laid out, it had been two of them that came up in Paul McCartney's situation. However it was not the regular degular kind of upcoming to Paul becoming a serial killer, he was not tortured at home, and he did not have some kind of psychological yearning to kill. Somewhat. It had all really started off as self defense that became an unhealthy cycle, a hobby that Paul could not seem to get rid of on certain occasions.</p><p>Very <em>sad</em> really.</p><p>-<em><span class="u"> 2 years earlier, 2019.</span></em></p><p>"Okay, how do I look?" Paul turned to his phone which had been set up on its phone stand, smoothening his palm down the front of his crimson red suit jacket. Wearing a dark green button up underneath the jacket, following up with black trousers and fitting leather shoes to finish it off. "Is it too much? Too little?" He questioned, eyeing his younger friend who was lounging in his bed, his phone showing the underside of his face, obviously fixated on something. Paul watched him in his own ignored silence for a couple of seconds before he sighed out, "George. Come on, answer me."</p><p>"Huh?" George tilted the phone up with furrowed eyebrows, his brown eyes skimming over Paul's outfit blandly. "Yeah, you look great." He distractedly said, the tip of his tongue prodding out through his lips as he painted a signifcantly small area on one of Paul's drawings. "You're going to that rigged comic book competition thing? I thought I told you not to go to that." The younger man scolded, his paintbrush stroking gorgeously against the drawings.</p><p>"I know but," Paul pouted, voice rising in a whine that made George's eyes roll. "I need a foundation somewhere. I've been wanting my comics to get noticed ever since my parents.." He trailed off, eyes suddenly falling to the ground as his ears turned red, throat beginning to burn as he tried to process the words. "Died." Was the finish, and George's attention transitoned to Paul, his face softening when his older friend became more visibly distant with the topic of this conversation. To be frank, George did not mean to sound so dismissive of this comic thing, he just found it incredibly odd that something like that could be held on a fucking Tuesday. Also he knew who the runner of this competition is from the news he heard about it, some guy named Thomas. </p><p>"Well, I don't want to stop you from doing what you're passionate about. Maybe you will get noticed, capture the first place trophy. What are the prizes?" George had asked, settling his paintbrush in its holder after dipping it into water. Paul's eyes lit up, and so did his face - a complete contrast of the expression he held onto only a few seconds before. The sight made George blush a little, feeling genuinely fuzzy whenever he could make his best friend smile.</p><p>"Well, it's a two-hundred fifty thousand pound check and you can aquire an agent along with your own publisher!" Paul happily exclaimed, those pretty eyes glimmering, George smiled fondly at him, his heart fluttering at the twinkle in Paul's eyes. "It'll get me started with a career. It could get <em>us</em> started Georgie. Think about it."</p><p>"Sure will." George dreamily said. "I'm genuinely hoping you win first place. Is there anything for the runner-ups?"</p><p>Paul blinked, thinking, before turning around to go and collect the poster he ripped off of the door since he didn't have his phone with him to take a picture of it. George had sighed while Paul was desperately rummaging around his flat, finding the poster on top of a printer in his own miniature drawing studio. Things were irking him leading up to the competition, and he was keen on actually having to attend it with Paul in case shit went south, Thomas is known to be a scammer. However, he was already busy with his own upcoming events, meeting up with his coworker who works with him at a record store, Richard Starkey. "I found it!" Paul's chirpy voice threw him back down to earth, "The person in second place gets.." He frowned. "Nothing."</p><p>"Some fairness." George muttered sarcastically, his eyes squinting, narrowing into a glare at nothing in particular. "Well, you would not have to worry about it since you're going to get flirst place anyway. Our comic book is going to hit the charts, blow them away." He said, tongue twisting in the lie formed in his words but his eyes told Paul another story, a story of motivation and false reassurance to keep the momentum up and under.</p><p>Paul smiled, his bright and innocent beam blinding George with second-hand guilt. Least the man had hope. Looking away and clearing his throat, George had changed the subject. "Anyway, make sure you come back early, don't be out there too late because there's some weirdos out there." He had warned, sounding like Paul's mother for a short second.</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Paul had replied with a touch of laughter in his voice. "I won't be out for long Geo. Do you want me to get you anything while I'm out though?"</p><p>George's eyes brightened up in realization, widening a bit. "Yes, I need some crayola color pencils."</p><p>Paul took a second to register what was said and gaped at him through the phone, his eyes darting across George's face. "Crayola color pencils? George, you're literally a painter and you color with the most expensive color pencils, why do you need crayola for?" He questioned in minimal disbelief at what the younger had just asked him to do. George double taked him, furrowing his eyebrows at the fact that he was being questioned for his own request.</p><p>"I'm a man of culture Paul. Gosh."</p><p>••</p><p>Getting off the bus, fucking late, Paul had took a nervous, shaky deep breath and looked up at the building. It was an art school of course. Paul was a bit surprised at himself for being <em>surprised</em> at this revelation. Clutching his comic book against his chest, he swallowed down a nervous knot of saliva built up in his throat and walked over towards the doors of the art school, the Art Academy of London. It was expensive, you had to have a really hard hitting ambition to get into this type of place and a image of your future after enrolling there from that point on.</p><p>Pushing the door opened, heading inside, the breeze of the cool AC had struck him and it made him really relieved since he had been sweating from anxiousness on the bus ride. Paul was greeted by someone who was sitting on a stool, clipboard in their hands while they cut off a socialization with a parent who was holding hands with a probable three year old. "Hello! Are you here to attend the art/comic competiton this evening?" The person questioned, the smile being fake but still welcoming in Paul's naive eyes. "If you are then you can sign this last slot before it officially starts." Said the person before Paul could answer, passive aggressively shoving the clipboard towards him.</p><p>"Uh- okay, am I late by the way?" Paul asked, placing his book in between his side and arm, removing the pen from the clip, which was hooked up on the chain and turning the clipboard towards him to sign the last slot. The person had gently dismissed the father and his daughter, looking over towards Paul to timidly watch him sign his signature into the slot. "It starts in five minutes." He had bluntly answered.</p><p>Paul looked up from the clipboard at the person, the tone in his voice capturing Paul's attention which caused a staring contest to conjure between them. "Well, I better hurry then." Paul had said after a couple of seconds, handing the clipboard back to him and purposely letting go of the object before the person could grasp it. "Whoops. Sorry." He murmured in a flat voice, before turning away from the person whom was doubled over to pick the clipboard up off of the floor, walking into the main area. Paul had looked around, immediately noticing that this was an auditorium put in use, dilligently observing the long judges table centered in the middle of the carpeted room. There was several staff members here and there, talking to the parents attending, or the groups of volunteerers sitting at circular tables scattered around the room.</p><p>Few cameras were here to flash and snap pictures at potiential winners, it made Paul feel a bit uneasy, but he put on a brave face nontheless.</p><p>There were three judges, one wearing a golden nametag with the name of 'Thomas' written on it in some type of cheap font from font generator dot come. Two others sitting aside of Thomas, a middle aged woman named Kristen and a elder man whose name was Gary. Paul found them all incredibly intimidating, but it was too late for him to back out.</p><p>Finding a table which was occupied with the father and three year old daughter, coincidently, paul had taken a seat and removed the comic from his underarm. Flipping through the pages, he sighed with a soft smile forming on his face. The fact that this may be it for him had dawned on his head, and he had never felt so excited to get his name called for first place. Paul had been working on this for years, and years. It'd really <em>crush</em> him if he were to take a loss.</p><p>"Evening folks, welcome to the Comic Rally! We're here to have fun and change someone's life forever." Came Thomas' charasmatic voice after the chattering in the auditorium had decreased over time. "We'll be going around at each table to question you about your piece, and have a sit down with you for at least five minutes. Each of us will be going separately so the process will be faster. As you wait for your turn, then you can go and have some snacks."</p><p>"Sounds fun, right Emily?" The father had asked his three year old, squeezing her small hand as the little girl pouted from being bored, even though the competition had just now started. "Hopefully they'll look at my Vincent Van Gogh painting cover."</p><p>Paul had blinked at that and looked over their way, an eyebrow raised. "Cover? Do you mean you repainted it?" He questioned in disbelief, much to his dountfulness, the cheery father had nodded his head eagerly. "Like the whole thing? Just like Vincent?"</p><p>"Well what do you think a cover is kid?"</p><p>Paul had shook his head, scoffing and turning his whole body around to face the duo. "Well, where is it? You just came here with your child." He chuckled, noticing the way the little girl stared at him, emotionless and paled face as if she caught a demon in her closet. Paul had briefly wondered what the hell was going on with this kid, but he frankly did not feel like exercising his thoughts in that type of area. Kids are criminally known to be judgmental and to stare for no exact reason, be excruciatingly disrespectful too, but Paul was one of those kids anyways.</p><p>"They'll see it. It's on my phone, I'll just show them a picture. Simple." The father had nonchalantly said, making Paul stare at him with his lips parted in actual shock. If it was that easy then he would have just mailed his comic book here in the first place. Well, as said before there is no backing out now.</p><p>"Anything can go if that's the case." Paul had mumbled to himself, looking away from the two to stare over at the judges walking around the room, interviewing different people on their art projects. Even though he was looking away, the three year old girl continued to stare at him, suddenly growing upset and tugging at her father's shirt to move away from Paul. It was as if a certain type of aura was exhibiting from the raven haired man, and it was making her extremely uncomfortable.</p><p>"Daddy, I want to sit somewhere else." She whined, side eyeing a distracted Paul before looking up at her confused father. "Please?"</p><p>"Um, sure Emily."</p><p>Paul turned his head to the two of them as both of them had walked away towards another table, with an eyebrow raising and several thoughts popping up in his mind, he let out an exhale. That was really weird. Paul wondered what he did to them, or was it something he had said. To be frank, he's been frightening a lot of kids lately, sometimes dogs, and there was genuinely no idea as to why in which he tried dissecting. Maybe he should just talk to George about it, and go on from there.</p><p>In the meantime, a couple of hours later, it had took a long while of Paul taking literal walking laps around the auditorium for him to finally be greeted by Thomas at the snack table. "Evening sir, sorry for the wait." Thomas had jadedly apologized, flipping through the pages in his journal in which he had information of the other contestants art and comic pieces written down. "Okay," Thomas had sighed while Paul swallowed down the muffin he had in his mouth, turning towards the judge with widened eyes. "What's your name and what is the name of your comic?"</p><p>"My name is Paul McCartney, and the name of this comic is called Mangos." Paul had said, inwardly recoiling at the sight of Thomas' face fixing in sudden confusion. "I know! I know it's kind of weird? But I- that was - ..listen eating mangos was something I did a lot when I first started this comic. That's all I could eat after both of my parents died." He had shyly admitted, clutching the comic tight in his hands, not tight enough to rumple everything up but it was a death grip, indeed. Thomas nodded quietly, and then shook his head seconds after as he scribbled something innominated down in a blank page of the journal he was holding.</p><p>"What is it - sorry, what is <em>Mangos</em> about?" Thomas had questioned, crossing his arms with a hint of a condescending look on his face. Paul matched the cold gaze, something unknown flaring inside of him as they stared at each other for a couple of seconds. "Well?"</p><p>Snapping back into it, Paul became flustered, clearing his throat and began to explain the comic. "Well, it's about this boy who is a well known scammer." He explained, throughout the main idea of the comic Thomas was noting down different things, not paying any attention however when a lovely built young woman came into his view. Skimming his eyes over the thickness of her thighs, and the miniscule size of her waist up to her breast, he had already thrown the topic of the comic out of his head to replace it with lust. Paul's talking had became background noise as Thomas' eyes became transfixed of the plumpness on that woman's lips, then he had further realized that she was holding a comic too - the woman was most likely another candidate.</p><p>Thomas blinked, looking back at Paul who was being animated, flashing pages at of his book at him with a bright gleam on his face. "Yes, yes, sounds uh <em>meticulous</em>. I will get back to you." He dismissed, moving past Paul to eagerly go after the girl who was waiting patiently on her phone.</p><p>"Hey, but I didn't get to the main plot yet." Paul had frowned, gently clutched at Thomas' wrist to stop him momentarily. The judge huffed and turned around, drawing back from Paul and whipping his arm away from him as if he was burnt from the touch.</p><p>"Listen Paul, it sounds intriguing, trust me. I've been doing this for years, I do not need to always hear the main plot. You've got it."</p><p>Paul blinked, "Well okay, but just so you know, I've been doing this years as therapy for my loss. It really means a lot to me if I get first place. I believe you though." He had said, nodding his head at Thomas before being shunned away in mere seconds when the man had whirled back around to race over towards the lonesome girl, he spotted one of the judges already walking towards her and it was making him feral.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Paul was eating some pretzels, sitting alone at his table, his foot tapping against the floor in anxiousness when it was announced after another hour that the judges were deliberating. There was a voice in the back of his head telling him that he lost, and he should just give up, fucking leave this place before he goes insane. Then there was another voice in his head expressing that he should not go anywhere, and that he should just stay around to see if Thomas had held his word. The crunch of the pretzel rung in his ears, and the build up anxiety had pressured its way down his throat, choking him unkindly like it was a popeyes biscuit without anything to drink.</p><p>For a moment, it had flashed in his brain that he should call George, tell him what unfolded between him and Thomas. The thought was immediately shutdown though since he figured that it'd be a little too early to do something like that, the results weren't even announced.</p><p>Eating another pretzel, he closed his eyes and leveled his breathing. There was no reason why he should be on edge for this. The anguished need to calm down swarmed him entirely. Ever since he was a teen there was multiple instances of a unidentified rush that had bothered whenever he was under stress, the only time he had released it, he was opening his eyes to see a wailing, pregnant dog with a pocket knife dug into her side. Paul had no idea who did it when he clicked back in, but some dumpster kid said that he was the one who killed the pregnant dog, telling a young Paul that he went into some type of silent rage quit and stabbed her to incapacitation.</p><p>It was a vow that he would never let those senses get away from his self control again, because killing an animal was giving him sleepless nights. The thing is, he never felt guilty about it. Something inside of him making him feel like it was just some type of anger problem that spiraled out of control to which he took it out on some poor dog. It's normal to not feel any remorse for that, right?</p><p>Right?</p><p>Seeing the missing dog posters of that same dog being put up on different buildings and stand posts by a crying girl, about his age, should have made him feel horrible in other standars. Paul could not find it in him to feel horrible though, even when the dog was found days later by the family that was looking for her, dead and decomposing - the baby bump still there with most likely dead puppies sitting inside of their lifeless mom. Paul had only stared inscrutably at the scene of everyone crying, the police + dog patrol trying to talk to them and everything. George was a horrified kid, tugging Paul away from the scene as the two of them had hurriedly passed by.</p><p>Paul had bit his tongue.</p><p>In the meanwhile, he was hissing at the pain of the accidental bite down and began spitting out the saltiness of the pretzel making his mouth burn. Pushing the half empty pretzel bag away, Paul had then turned to face the judges table as the three of them had filed back into the auditiorium, several other staff members carrying the prizes which caused the nervous butterlfies in his stomach to flutter.</p><p>"Fuck." Paul had irritatedly muttered under his breath, picking up the small water bottle and twisting the cap open to drink the cold water, soothing the annoying pain inside of his mouth. Checking his phone he read the time, and he was genuinely surprised: 8:45pm. There was no way he was here for so long, what in the hell. This whole thing better be worth it, he wants to get started with everything and use this as some type of foundation.</p><p>"Okay everyone! The time has now dawned on us." Thomas announced, winking at the same girl he approached an hour ago who only fake smiled back at him. "I know you've all been waiting, and this decision was difficult among us judges. Each and everyone of you are extremely talented in what you do." He said, not really being truthful in that statememnt but it did not really matter to him how anyone else felt. Thomas just really wanted to get in that participant's pants, and he wanted to speed everything up, make everyone who failed feel good for a brief second. Paul on the other hand was becoming impatient, sweat formulating on his forehead within each second.</p><p>"For first place in the comic book competition—"</p><p>•</p><p>"I lost to a fucking picture of a Vincent Van Gogh cover," Paul had finished jamming his foot against the dumpster that he walked up on after storming out of the building a few minutes ago. Backing up away from the dented thing, he ran his hands through his fringe and closed his eyes to level his anger, all of the unhinged frustration continuing to brittle through his system. Opening his eyes when a rustle from beside him had caught the lick of his ear, Paul had fiercely  doubled his vision on the family of cats escaping from under the dumpster. There was a temptation to walk over towards the stray animals and -</p><p>A vibration unfolded in his pocket, and Paul continued to stare at the animals with a stare of demonization before picking the phone up, holding it up to his ear. "Hello?" He softly answered, voice sounding distant with a touch of shakiness in it that made George frown in concern from the other side of the phone.</p><p>"Paul? It's almost ten, and I just wanted to check on you. Are you okay? Did you win?"</p><p>Paul inhaled through his nose, despite the smell of the dumpster and he began to carry on with his walk that was trailed on by a small limp since he slammed his foot hard against the dumpster in rage, his hand sliding smoothly into his pocket. "The competiton lasted for hours, and I didn't win. I got fifth place. Some guy with his daughter got first place, and they didn't even come with their actual art or comic. It's just a big fucking scam." He ranted, eyes going teary. "I thought I had it. George I thought we had it, and they took all the momentum."</p><p>"Oh Paul," George had exhaled, sitting back in his chair and heaving his legs up to his chest, rubbing at his temples in frustration. "Listen, I know how much you wanted this. Take this as something to gain from. You're so much better than some low IQ competition."</p><p>Paul had hummed, walking towards a convenience store to go and capture some crayola color pencils for George before he had actually headed home. "I don't- I guess so George. I just want to get my mind off of drawing for a bit, everything is making me mad at the moment."</p><p>George made a 'mhm' sound, "And that's totally understandable."</p><p>Hanging up after a few more words passed around. he took on entering the store. Paul looked around for a little bit before heading into one of the few non-food aisles where he immediately saw a glint of school supplies. Two thickset men stood by around the liquor section, at first sweet talking a woman who seemed out of it and laced with something that involved possibly deadly drugs, one of them caught onto Paul's presence.</p><p>The appealing sight of the raven haired man giving his eyes a lucky prize, the man had nudged at his best friend and nodded his head over towards Paul who was actively searching for the crayola color pencils. Perverted eyes skimming over his fitted frame, bluntly noticing how well dressed the young man had been which caused a smirk to form on one of their faces.</p><p>From that point on there was a silent agreement that they were going to follow the boy out and make future plans with him soon enough, later on when they were far from the store of course.</p><p>Paul grasped at the last box of colored pencils, and sighed quietly while making his way towards the register. Well he was lucky at one thing, finding the last of the color pencils before anyone else could take them. He barely noticed the two men trekking near him, something in his head told them that they were in line as well. Paul dug in his pockets, swiftly pulled out the last remaining funds that he carried in cash, and counted it silently while the colored pencils got scanned by the tired store owner. "Your total is two pounds, nintey nine."</p><p>Laying the money out on the counter, sliding it towards the cashier, Paul had silently grasped at the colored pencils and began making his way out of the store with his head down in disaapointment.</p><p>As agreed, two of the men followed him out and walked a couple of feet behind him, both of their eerie presence reigning in the night. Paul had tossed the colored pencils back and forth between his hands, humming some hypnotic lullably that he remembered his father playing for him to keep him gathered under his breath. The streetlights made him hot, and he was tempted for a brief second to take off the suit jacket since there was no use in him wearing it anymore. To be frank, Paul doubted that he could continue drawing anymore.</p><p>Looking at the comic in his other hand, Paul scrunched his nose up and tossed it carelessly into an alleyway that he was coming to pass by. There was no use for it, hopefully George wouldn't be too angsty about it. What made the inevitable departure of the comic even worse from a different standpoint is that the whole thing was dedicated to his parents. The thought of that hadn't occured to him though. Not yet at least.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>These two burly men had been following him for a minute, and he left the store awhile ago at this point. So what the hell was going on?</p><p>Paul whipped his head around to see the two big men trailing behind him, unsettling smile son their faces along with a crazed look sheltered into their eyes. Furrowing his eyebrows, Paul had formed a couple of words to try and spark up a polite confrontation with them. "Um, can I help you?" He asked, slowing down the pace of his walk so that it would not seem asif he was intimidated by them. To him it would just make things seem worse.</p><p>"Yeah!" One of them said loudly, causing the other to laugh causing Paul to speed his walk up subconciously. "You can help us by being a good boy and get rid of em clothes."</p><p>Okay, fuck this.</p><p>Paul had immediately sprinted, speeding down the rest of the block, up and away from the perverts following him. The sounds of quick footsteps behind him only made him run faster, thanking the one year where he had taken track and field at primary school, the warm wind whipped at his face as he ran discordantly. Paul felt his chest tighten from the panting breaths, and sweat pool at the back of his neck as he continued to run as fast as he could, muscles begging him to stop but the fear treading down his spine saying something else.</p><p>Looking back, he grew even more horrified at the fact that the two men were not too far down away from him and it was causing his head to spin widly. "Shit, shit, shit." Paul cursed, lungs bruising and throat becoming crisp as he breathed incorrectly whilst running at a top speed for so long. Paul could feel his fucking heart thrumming in his ears, and it was killing him if the adrenaline wasn't taking over enough.</p><p>The type of shoes he was wearing did not help, and it was his downfall as well. Slipping down his heel, causing him to stumble and fall hard onto the pavement. As if he did not fall, Paul had grappled at the ground, immediately trying to stand up only to get grasped by his suit jacket and pulled up by the two men that had caught up inhumanely fast. "Get up now! C'mon, get up pretty." Said one of them as Paul was lifted, the younger had panicked and struggled against their grips, screaming out for help as they forced him into dark passageway. The ginnel being dark and humid, smelling like a racoon carcus, but that was the last thing Paul was worried about as he fought and fought.</p><p>With both of his arms being held back by one big guy, and a sudden weight on his hips, Paul looked up in bone rattling fear at the other one as a ridiculously rough hand grabbed harshly at his cheek. Paul grunted, withering underneath the weight of the older man on top of him as his cheek was tugged unkindly, "Such a pretty fella. What got you so dressed up tonight huh?"</p><p>"Let me go! Please! Don't do this!" Paul shrieked, hyperventilating as he kicked his long legs, desperately trying to escape the clutches of his violaters. All he got back was just a fucking laugh, and all he could feel was the non-consented touch of large hands shoving its way into his shirt and feeling all over his chest, Paul literally squeaked and cried out in horror. "Stop! Get off me!" He yelled, trying desperately to atrract someone's attention.</p><p>Suddenly the wind was knocked out of him when a fist came down hard on his face, shutting him up and dazing him for a bit as disastrous ministrations resumed on him.</p><p>--</p><p><span class="u">Click</span>.</p><p>Blood ran down Paul's nose, the back of his head hitting the hard floor of the cafeteria after one of the school bullies struck him in the face. Paul was then whacked with a binder before he could even attempt to gather himself and make his escape, causing him to shrivel up and curl into himself on the school floor as everyone laughed at him, a group of boys gathering around him to kick at his disheveled and vulnerable body.</p><p><span class="u">Click</span>.</p><p>Paul was treated by the nurse afterwards, her eyes soft and comforting. "They're just <em>boys</em> Paul, just boys." She softly said, making Paul's eye twitch at that statement. It was driving him literally crazy how them being fucking <em>boys</em> excused them all for what they had done to him. So when he got one of the bullies back by stabbing a pair of scissors into his arm, <em>twice</em>, making the kid scream and bleed profusely while running away from Paul who was still intent on hurting the child, despite several teachers holding him back - it made him feel like it was unfair that he was grounded by his parents and suspended for two weeks.</p><p><span class="u">Click</span>.</p><p>"I don't understand why he would do that, he's such a good kid, we've raised him good. Our Paul never gave us any trouble. I think it was after the rough housing a few days ago where they had hurt him, and it made him very upset." Mary had explained, looking at Jim for agreement as her husband nodded eagerly while holding baby Michael in his lap. Paul was silently sitting in a chair besides his mother, not understanding what he did wrong for him to be in a conference with the superintendent of the board of education, the kid whose name he found out was Brady's parents, and the principle of the school.</p><p>"They beat up our son, did you think he was <em>not</em> going to retaliate?" Jim asked, looking over at the steaming hot parents and the child who was palefaced, a heavy bandage wrapped around his arm. The mom looked as if she was weeping hours earlier and the father looked as if he wanted to fight Jim for uttering those words.</p><p>"YOUR fucking son <em>stabbed</em> our Brady! He was going to stab him again if it wasn't for another student pulling him away! What if that student got hurt? Your son is mentally unstable, please expel him! He can't be in this school anymore! Brady is only eight years old!" The father yelled, and Paul had cut his eyes over towards the dad, staring at him with a look of menace in his glare that made Brady clutch onto his father's hand, growing terrified of the mere heat of Paul's stare and he was on the edge of crying when a small smirk appeared on Paul's face when their eyes met.</p><p>"I don't condone Paul stabbing anyone, but he's always been coming home crying about what your son and his friend's do to him. A breaking point was near. I'm sure he's sorry, as long as Brady is sorry for his actions." Mary had gently explained, imfamous in calming people down when things got too hot for anyone else to handle. "Yes Brady is eight, but Paul is seven. Everything just happens on impulse, but going to extreme lengths like this is ridiculous."</p><p>The principal took off her glasses, rubbing her temples and sighing. "Listen, bullying is expected in school. Stabbing children however is a whole different subject. Now I agree that Brady and his friend's should not have provoked Paul the way he did, but intentionally stabbing another child, as well as fighting others to continue to attack that child is.. not normal."</p><p>"Thank you!" The weeping mother cried out.</p><p>Jim grunted at that, "But he is still sorry, it was an act of impulse, aren't you sorry Paul?"</p><p>All eyes on Paul now, the seven year old boy had muttered flatly: "No."</p><p><em>Click</em>.</p><p>--</p><p>"Fuck!" The big man had wetly choked out when a sharpened colored pencil suddenly became pierced visciously into his throat, impaling his vertebrae and ripping through his vessels, his blood spurting out from the side when Paul had quickly pulled the pencil out, going right for his temple to end his life immediately. The other man that had been formally holding his arms back before attempting to undo his own clothing had screamed out in horror, "Fucking hell! Oh my God!" Chills racked up his spine and nausea barreled in as his best friend collapsed, dead on top of Paul who was panting mindlessly, his own blood rushing into his head as he realized what the fuck just happened. "You- you just-" The other man could not even form words as Paul shoved the lifeless body from between his legs, and disgustedly grappled at his trousers which was pulled down to his ankles.</p><p>Standing up, swaying, and shaking uncontrollably from almost getting his dignity stripped away. Paul ripped another colored pencil out of the box, his eyes glazed over with something unrecognizable as he began to take a few steps towards the shocked burly man. Realizing the smaller man's intent, the burly man had immediately began to run away with tears of his friend's death streaming down his cheeks, having grown up together, running the streets with each other to get some money off of the foundation of drugs. He was so overwhelmed from what he had just witnessed, he didn't even notice the fast footsteps of an enraged young man who was half his size coming towards him full speed. Paul had removed his other shoe, sending it flying towards the man's head before tackling him down in the desolate street.</p><p>Before the big man could even react, his desperate sentence of: "I'm sorry! Wait! Please don't do this!" Being cut short, he was being barbarically stabbed to death, the jabs of the sharpened pencil coming down on his face, neck, eyes, head, to the point where the wood snapped. Paul resorted to jerking his head against the concrete as he properly straddled the big man, rage flooding him, not being able to see anything at all besides the crimson red flashes of anger. Paul wrapped his hands around the already unconcious man's neck and strangled him to a point where his windpipes became crushed against each other, too weak to fight the boy he submitted to his fate and slipped into cardiac arrest after a few seconds.</p><p>Paul had eventually released his grip when he noticed that the body underneath him went limp, slumping tiredly as he tried to capture his breath, lucky for him in a coincidence the streets were empty. No witnesses to what was done. To keep it that way, he needed to get out of here, and quickly too. So Paul had unevenly stood up on his feet, walking over to clumsily pick up the ruined box of colored pencils that was settled next to the slowly dying body. Still panting, Paul had then turned to a certain direction and began running the rest of his way to his home, it was far but he was too screwed up at the moment to call a bus. Plus, he just fucking <em>killed</em> two people and it hasn't even been twenty minutes yet.</p><p>Killed.</p><p>When Paul got home, he stumbled into his bathroom, and turned the shower on immediately, ripping his bloody clothes off, trying to swallow everything that just happened down. The same night where he lost the comic competition, he almost gets raped? Paul could not fanthom it, and what was also surprising is that the fact that he killed two people did not seem to bother him at all. There was a numb feeling of it not mattering to him, even if it was excused in a way since it was self defense. Paul thought that he should feel <em>some</em> type of remorse, or an emotion of being terrified that he took somebody's life, but for some reason it was just not there. Maybe it needed to settle in for him.</p><p>Fucking hell - the only emotion he felt at the moment was still a raw feeling of hurt for losing and some type of evil pride for being able to take down men who had tried to fuck his life up.</p><p>Who knew that this was going to become a hobby of his? Something that he could shake off and put back on like some type of jacket? Probably no one but himself, Paul never had trouble or found something disturbing when it came to harming people or animals. It'd be so rare when he'd do it though. That was probably the catch of all things.</p><p>Paul did have one quesiton in the back of his head though.</p><p>What the fuck is wrong with him?</p><p>•••</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>excuse the errors!<br/>the first meetups of many</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>- Present day, 2021.</em>
</p><p>Twirling around in his apron to face the customer, cappucino in his hand, with a bright and welcoming smile on his face that the line could not see under the mask he was wearing, John had still caught the hearts of everyone waiting in line. "Here's your coffee madame, have a nice morning and I hope your manager let's you off today. Things are rough nowadays." He said gently, making the woman nod her head, the messy bun on her head having strands of her curly hair fall in front of her face from how eagerly she nodded at that statement.</p><p>"Bless you." She responded, giving John a twenty pound tip before taking her coffe into her hand and leaving with a new glow in her usually tired facade. John placed the pound into his pocket, humming as he rung up the next customer with a polite greeting, a naturally flirtatious persona that caused the customer to flush and his heartbeat to quicken from John's happy presence. It made him more flustered because this had to be the hundreth time John had seen him, the chirpiness from John would always have him coming back into the coffee place.</p><p>"Good morning John." The man smiled, his eyes glistening while he skimmed the attractive cashier's face which was unfortunately halfway covered. Before the pandemic had hit England, he had seen John's full face and the beautiful sight only made him fall for the worker even more than he should have. God. "You look really good today." He shyly complimented, making the cashier playfully roll his eyes and stifle a giggle into the cloth of his mask.</p><p>"Thank you, Todd and good morning to you too." John had said, raising and lowering his eyebrows goofily with a undetermined smirk on his face. "What would you like this morning, hm? The usual?" He gently questioned, tapping on the screen of the ordering machine, going straight to customization of whatever beverage Todd had wanted.</p><p>"I uh- well I was thinking if I could have your number and take you out on a date?" Todd had questioned, fiddling with his sweaty hands and causing someone who was standing five feet away from him to look up from their phone and cock their head in second hand embrassment from what they had just heard. John looked genuinely taken back, blinking in shock from the sudden request that was partaken in public with two more people in line behind him, his brown eyes twinkling and his face becoming an adorable shade of light red as he tried to register an answer to that question. Todd tried to ignore the embarassment drowning him when John hadn't said anything for the last couple of seconds.</p><p>"Todd.. I- well, I'm sorry but I have someone already." John had said, gently letting the man down with a thoroughly sorry look spreading in his eyes. Todd's mouth dropped open, his ears turning red and his throat burning. Little did he know that he was being actively recorded from the last person in line, ready to go viral on tiktok for such a bold move to do in public. "Listen, you're a really nice man. I thought that we just - I thought we were like really close work friends you know? I didn't-"</p><p>"No, no, it's okay." Todd put on a closed-lipped smile, his eyes going droopy and watery while his heart broke into a million little pieces. "I'm just going to go now.. to um work." He choked out a laugh. "I don't want anything by the way, I'm fine." He had said, looking absolutely shattered as he turned away from John to walk away and out of the doubled doors that had a little bell on top of it, making noises whenever someone entered the shop. John felt both embarassed from being publicly put on the spot and like a total ass for letting Todd down at the same time, luckily it was close to his break time so he would not have to face anyone for fifteen minutes, thank fucking God.</p><p>-</p><p>"No way! Todd? Our number one customer?" Cynthia had exclaimed before she clapped her hand over her mouth, stopping the process of her stacking up old designed coffee cups onto the table, making towers with it since she could not do anything else during her forty-five minute break. John had nodded his head, placing his bitten donut back down on top of the brown napkin. Cynthia withdrew a breath of surprise, shaking her head while chuckling under her breath, continuing to stack the cups up more and more until John had knocked them all down.</p><p>Ignoring the 'Hey! You ass!' that he got from Cynthia, John had continued his story. "I lied and said that I'm taken. He's cute and all, but it's - I don't know, giving someone my number seems like a lot to do." He said, picking up the ice tea he had bought and taking a sip from it as Cynthia made a noise of understanding whilst stacking the cups again. "Plus, you can't just go out with random people anymore since everyone's disappearing in this town."</p><p>"Yeah," Cynthia sighed, shaking her head, being reminded of the three young men that still weren't ever found since the the last couple of weeks of November of 2020. "It's insane how there's just someone out there kidnapping men, up to this day, there's only one body that has been found." She had momentarily stopped her stacking of cups and looked at John with concerned eyes. "It makes me really scared for you sometimes, and Stuart too."</p><p>John had huffed dismissvely, licking the residue of the donut off of his fingers. "You don't have to worry about me Cyn, I'm not going to let some guy kidnap me. You've seen me knock out people ten times bigger than me." He nonchalantly said, passing Cynthia a wink that made the blonde haired girl throw a cup at him with a small tint of pink on her cheeks.</p><p>"I guess John, but still, be safe. The last thing I need is to lose you in the middle of this fucking pandemic. I already lost my grandmother and my father." Cynthia said, growing insanely serious which had captured John's diligent attention it was rare since John had been imfamous in carrying a jolly personalitly, even during the serious moments. "Just be careful okay?"</p><p>"Of course Cyn, I'll be okay." John smiled reassuringly at her, wanting to make sure Cynthia knew that he was just as genuine as she was from the critical topic of this conversation. "How about after work, you come over to my house and we could watch The Greatest Showman again?" He asked, knowing that Hugh Jackman and Zac Efron was one of Cynthia's weaknesses, and they were his as well but he wouldn't admit it. Only because Cynthia had pointed out how John was literally drooling over Zac Efron, eye fucking him through the screen in one particular scene from the movie.</p><p>Cynthia smiled, her eyes lighting up as she turned to John and grappled at his hand in excitement. "And I can play with all of your cats too? Count me in. Call Stuart there too, you know how he gets when he's not included." The eagerness in her gaze made it clear that John could not say no, and so he nodded at her, laughing merrily as she jumped into his arms while squealing happily. "Yes! Ah! We both have morning shifts right?" Cynthia pulled away just as John nodded his head, holding onto her. "So we can get the fuck out of here, and get away from these weird people. Ugh."</p><p>"Yup, yup. We won't have to worry about the rest of the customers, it'll just be us. The Scooby gang."</p><p>Their manager came in, and the both of them had parted away from each other immediately, masks being pulled up onto the bridge of their noses. Cynthia had swiftly stood up in her seat, collecting all of the cups she had stacked up onto the table and vacating towards the large trash can to throw them all away. Skimming her light green eyes across the lounging room, the manager had finally locked eyes with John and tilted her head curiously at him. "What's going on here? Where's the social distancing, hm?" She questioned, squinting her eyes at the two of them when Cynthia emerged back to the table. John had shrugged his shoulders in fake confusion, snickering into his mask when Cynthia eyed him humorously.</p><p>"John how long is your break? Didn't you take a fifteen?" The manager, Shelby, had asked him. The auburn haired man had hesitated to answer, remembering that he overextended the break as some type of mental assurance that he could be back right on time. "It's been twenty five minutes, and Lisa has to take her break, she's covering for you. And you know she's sixteen. It's federal."</p><p>"Okay, I'll be out there. Time just slipped past me. I'm sorry Shelby." John said, wishing that he did not have the mask on so the pout on his face could be well presented, it usually gets him out of work troubles from the rare times that he'd screw up. Which was extremely rare. Standing up in his chair, and gathering his things, Cyn had quietly volunteered to put John's ice tea in the refrigerator in the breakroom. John had bowed at her, causing the blonde to giggle from the man's extraness, he had then turned and nodded at his manager before leaving the breakroom.</p><p>John had strolled back out, walking over towards the cash register and giving Lisa a gentle pat on her shoulder as they passed by each other. Humming happily, John had tapped a few things on the register to reset it before ringing the next person in line up, rattling his fingers of the hand that he was not using against the top of the counter. "Next in line please?" His voice had sung, eyes looking away from the register to meet up with - oh? John's eyes widened a bit at the gorgeous pools of hazel being gifted to him, long eyelashes, perfect eyebrows, neatly combed raven colored hair and tall. 5'11, bordering on 6'0. Goddamn. This was certainly not a usual customer. "Hellooo." John dragged out despite feeling breathless, he leaned against the counter, flirtatiousness floating in between the two of them.</p><p>"Hey." The man softly replied, his large eyes looking up at the menu while John could not seem to stand still behind the counter. The tall dude wore on a light grey sweatshirt, John innocently wondered if he wore grey sweatpants as well and the realization of that thought made his cheeks heat up, as well as his whole body. Shit. John was this close to find his knees buckling when the man looked at him in the eyes again, one eyebrow raised attractively. "Is it just coffee that you sell here or do you give out tea as well?" He had asked after a couple of awkward seconds, the softness of his voice making John's heart flutter unfamiliarly.</p><p>"We sell both, lots of people just prefer coffee nowadays. Kind of a trend." John had said dryly, inwardly wincing at the sudden loss of his conversation skills. "But um yeah, I can ring up some tea for you. Ice or hot? How much sugar do you want?"</p><p>"Ah," The man raised up his hand and scratched at his head, perfect eyebrows furrowing. "This is my first time here, so I'm not really sure. What would <em>you</em> get?" His eyes had met John's again, making the cashier squeak a little.</p><p>"I usually get ice tea with lots of sugar," John had shyly answered. "I'm a sugary person."</p><p>"So you say."</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>John inhaled through his mask, his hands becoming sweaty and the blush of his face only growing by small seconds. "That sounded weird, I'm sorry. I was just - anyways, yeah that's the tea I get! Mhm." He croaked out, trying his best to save himself from falling into the pits of the embarassment that had already tortured him throughout this exchange with this unbearably attractive customer.</p><p>Laughing a little, which made John turn into a literal apple, the man had then said with a smooth voice: "Then I'd have the sugary tea then. Just how you like it."</p><p>Oh my God. John had immediately customized the order, feeling the eyes of the raven haired man stare longingly at him. "Okay, order is done! What's your name if I need to call it out?" He had said, looking back at the man who did not flinch when their eyes met even though John was very much aware that he was being scrutinized like a foreign object. From anyone else it would make John uncomfortable, but with this man, it made him want to do things for him. It totally contradicts what he had told Cynthia back on his break, but holy fucking shit. John felt as if he was ready to risk it all.</p><p>If only he knew.</p><p>"Paul McCartney." Paul replied, eyeing John unashamedly. The man was so attractive, even if Paul could not see his full face, it made Paul want to do things for him. To him. Lots of things. However, this - Paul looked at the nametag - Lennon person looked ravishing enough for Paul to just want to fuck him and do nothing crazy afterwards. Unlike others. Licking his lips, recoiling when his tongue brushed against the fabric of the mask, Paul could not help but to notice a man leaning against the window of the shop, glanicng over at John occasionally. The man was morbidly fascinated by John, and Paul did not know that this heartbroken man was Todd, however his presence did capture McCartney's attention.</p><p>Before John could move to go and make the beverage, Paul had called John back by his last name. "That guy has been staring at you for awhile now." He said, motioning his head over towards Todd who assumed that he'd been caught staring like a creep.</p><p>John glanced over, his mouth parting open in surprise. Fuck, he's still here? "Oh I- ignore him. He um.. yeah just ignore him." John had nervously laughed, waving him off as he went to the back to go and fix Paul some tea. Paul hummed, drawing perfect circles on the counter top, throwing another weird glance at Todd before looking back at the invisible circles being drawn by the tips of his fingers.</p><p>•••</p><p>"Here." Paul had bluntly said, stealing a glance from George's new work and pushing the ice tea into George's face before sitting down next to him as his younger friend who had pulled down his mask and eagerly grasped at the cup, drinking down the liquid and clenching his craving for tea. "What are you coloring now?" Paul asked, his eyes now being glued on his phone, scrolling through twitter on his anonymous account that had no layout. George had released his lips from the straw, letting out a soft 'ah' sound of satisfaction before skimming his eyes over the art he was working on. </p><p>"You know the art in Bambi? I'm trying to recreate it." George answered, leaning back in the public chair that they were prohibited from sitting down in but the cops had give up on trying to stop them a long time ago. "The only catch to this is that I have to draw everything since you won't do it for me." He had said, frowning over at Paul who only stared expressionless at him, George had reeled it back when their eyes met and immediately did a follow up save. "But I'm getting better at doing it. I just wished you went back to doing your comics again Paul, they were all good." </p><p>Paul sighed, "What's the use? Nothing is giving me any ideas to write anything down for a comic, fucking quarantine is boring me. Plus, no one is going to give it a chance anyway." </p><p>George was about to argue on that, his lips already formulating a sentence that would counter Paul's but he was interrupted by the notifcation sound on Paul's phone, causing the slightly older man to pull it out and read what was sent. 'hey, it's finn! is our meetup still on tonight?' Oh yeah, Finn. A guy Paul met at the library, talking him up with his hypnotically soft voice, reeling him in to planning some type of bookclub thing at his home. Paul hadn't remembered it being scheduled tonight, but it really did not matter to him as much as it should. </p><p>"Who's that?" George questioned, a innocent question that made Paul smile a little at him. </p><p>"Auntie, you know how she is." A straight face lie, and George fell for it with ease. Paul had exhaled, and texted Finn back with a simple: 'yes.' The other man had left him on read, but he did not care since he turned his phone off afterwards. "There's this cute bloke that works at the coffee shop where I got that tea from. Last name is Lennon, he seems shy and jumpy." Paul had casually brung up, nonchalantly remembering the cute boy which had caused a soft smile to form on his face. George had glanced over at Paul with flabbergasted expression on his face, kind of surprised in a way that he'd actually bring something so random up out of nowhere. </p><p>"Really? Is that so?" The younger responded, leaning against the side of Paul's warm body to get more out of him about this stranger. "What does he look like huh? Do you like him?" </p><p>Paul blinked, and folded his hands on top of each other inside of his lap feeling put on the spot all of a sudden, voice deeping as he described the man. "Uh - he has auburn hair. Or so I think. A nice Liverpool accent. Pretty eyes and thick eyebrows. Should've taken a pic with him, he seemed really nervous." He paused for a little bit, looking over at George. "I think he's our age." </p><p>"Oh, cool. It's fine if you like him too Paul, I'd just be careful since some fucking weirdo is snatching people off of the street. " George, similiar to Cynthia, had told the raven haired man, shivering from the reality that people from their town in Liverpool were <em>still</em> missing. "We don't even know who they are either, or if they have more than one accomplice. We're dealing with a pandemic <em>and</em> a serial killer."</p><p>Paul had furrowed his eyebrows, letting his hand move over to grasp at George's hand to give it a gentle squeeze. "Don't stress yourself George, I'll be alright." He had told him, his gentle voice oozing the suspicions from George's body for a moment, and the younger fell into it without any reprecussions. "That serial killer shit works you up a lot. You know how you get."</p><p>"I know but- it's just so sad seeing families sob about their son, boyfriend, or husband being gone. There's nothing anyone could really do about it with this co-vid 19 stuff." George shook his head, trembling a little and Paul had silently petted the back of his hand. "It's just really scary." </p><p>Paul had stared mutedly at George's hand, continuing to pet the skin with a soft touch until it had grown uncomfortably tender for the younger. "Why do you think they do it?" He queried, face ridiculously calm. "Abducts these people, take them away from their friends and family? How could someone be so cruel?" With this question, and the persisent stroke of Paul's fingertips against his hand, George could not seem to rule out an answer - feeling distracted for a couple of seconds. </p><p>"I don't know. Maybe he wants to be like Ted Bundy, but mostly with males." </p><p>"Yeah, but <em>why</em> men?" </p><p>George looked away in thought, all the while yanking his stinging hand away as he murmured: "You're rubbing it too much, now it feels all tingly." He said in a tiny voice before shrugging his shoulders at the question. "I don't know why they choose men to go after, it's probably because we're a bunch of assholes, but still." </p><p>Paul nodded quietly, "We are assholes, aren't we?" </p><p>Before George could answer, a family had walked by with a small four month year old baby in the stroller and the younger of the duo could not help but to fall apart at the sight of a baby. "Aw! She's adorable!" He shouted, bounding off of his chair to walk over towards the stroller, leaning down to take a peak at the alerted baby. The family had chuckled, and the father had proudly stated her name, feeling as if having his child was a good accomplishment, to which it really was. Paul had trekked behind George, standing next to him to look at the little baby as George cooed excitedly at her, making the baby girl laugh adorably. "Aw who's the cutest little thing? You are, you are! Paul come here, look at baby Blossom." </p><p>"Blossom?" </p><p>"Her name, idiot." George replied, making the couple laugh heartily. Paul pressed his lips together, sending a naive George a stare before walking to the front of the stroller and crouching down to level himself with the baby girl. Blossom kept smiling, her eyes following George until they retraced their way over to Paul's hazel ones. Right then and there, her smile had dropped, her nose flared and she inhaled before letting out a terrible cry that her parents never heard before. Paul continued staring at her, relatively accustomed to children freaking out about him at this point in his life and he couldn't say that he blamed them at all. Blossom's face went red and her voice was cracking, feet kicking as she forced the stroller to back up against the parents, going absolutely hysterical when Paul's eyes continued to stare into hers. </p><p>"Blossom! My goodness." The mother gasped, reaching into her diaper bag to search around for a baby bottle, she got the impression that Blossom was hungry but whenever she was it'd be a soft cry. Not a loud and terrified one as if she had seen the devil. </p><p>The father grew agitated, "Hey kid, what are you doing to my daughter? Is this some kind of game you're playing?" He asked loudly so that he could be heard over Blossom's cries.</p><p>Paul stood up, and approached the father, no longer in Blossom's field of vision which caused her cries to soften a little bit. "I literally just crouched down and your kid started wailing, how is that my problem?" He rhetorically asked, narrowing his eyes at the man. George was nearing them since he felt like something was brewing up, and he felt kind of discombobulated as well from this entire sequence of events unfolding right before him. Why did that baby get so scared of Paul? What in the hell had caused her to cry like that? </p><p>"Blossom <em>never</em> cries like that!" The mother had yelped, now having a trembling Blossom clutched protectively into her arms. Now they were drawing attention by other pedestrains, and Paul was getting genuinely annoyed. </p><p>"The baby's like four months old, seems like you still have lots to learn about the kid. It has nothing to do with me." </p><p>George tugged Paul's arm, not wanting to end up on tiktok. "Come on Paul, let's just go. Blossom is probably just tired from all the laughing." He said, trying to warm up both sides by being the peacekeeper, he learned it from Richard in a way. Paul eyed the couple once more, and then purposely glared at the baby to send it crying again before turning to George, both of them walking away from the area as the parents tried to calm their kid down.</p><p>--</p><p>"What the fuck was that about Paul?" George had asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he shoved Paul in front of him. The older stumbled a bit from the rough push, but he gathered himself and continued walking in a leisured place as if nothing happened back there. "Did you just make a scary face at the child or something? Why did she freak out like that?" The younger continued, pulling his mask down to his chin for a brief second so the genuine concern in his voice could be heard. "Why whenever we stumble upon a child or an animal they get scared of you?" </p><p>Paul whipped around, walking backwards with his hands settled into his pockets. "I don't know, it's been that way ever since I was a kid. Why are you bringing it into question now? You've known this already." He retorted, calling George out on his foundation of queries that involved Paul's complex relationship with children and animals. </p><p>"Just because I've known it for years does not make it less weird for me. Even the birds flock away from your presence, I just find it really weird." </p><p>Paul had suddenly stopped walking, making George pause too. The younger became flustered when Paul had approached him, moving his hands from his pockets to set them on George's shoulders, moving to cup his hands around George's neck, his thumb brushing against the soft skin of younger's neck making him sqeak and swat his hands from the suggestive feather light touch. "God why do you do this?" George had queried, slapping at Paul's hands. </p><p>"Why do you think they do that Georgie? What's your conspiracy?" Paul asked, staring directly into George's soul as the man had stammered upon his reasonings too locked up in the homoerotic stance he found himself in with his best friend. When the answer did not come out, Paul had kept his hands around George's neck for a few more seconds before spanning them out to the younger's shoulders again. "I'm guessing you don't have one. Also, I'm sorry for getting all touchy, I just can't find it in myself to keep my hands off of you sometimes."</p><p>George's face went more red as he stammered, "You- hey! What does that supposed to mean?"</p><p>Paul only giggled and began to skip the rest of the way down the pavement as if he was in the Wizard of Oz movie. George had chased after him, calling out Paul's name in fits of laughter despite chills continuing to run up and down his backside. When they were walking side by side again, George suckling on his ice tea, Paul had shoved his hands in his pockets with his eyes melted into the ground.  "Hey Paul? You seem more talkative than usual today." George said, sparking up a conversation with the older when the silence began to dwell on him. "Are you going back to therapy or something? Just a question because I want know."</p><p>Paul blinked, and looked over at George with a wondrous expression on his face as he tried to summon up an answer. That question had caught him off guard. "Um, no. I have not gone back to therapy. Just a nice day I guess." He mumured, voice soft and a bit muffled from the mask. George got a clear answer though, figuring the sentence out anyways. </p><p>"It is a nice day. Hopefully nothing bad happens today."</p><p>Paul's eyes had darkened, "Yeah. I hope." </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>gets kind crazy here<br/>excuse the errors</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Finn was always an adventrous kid. Ditching school with his best friends back then to go to the arcade, and then come back when recess would come into play. Finn had a brilliant smile, a smooth talk and close bonds with people of all genders, lovely singing voice, <em>amazing</em> skills in the basketball court. Finn was very respectful to his parents, greeting his mother with a kind smile along with a hug. "Hi mum," He'd say in the midst of a tight hug after not seeing her for long. His mother, whose name is Rachel had suffered from depression ever since she was a teen, and seeing her son everyday - the light of her life - would always make her gray days into cheerfully green one. Finn's father, a strong man named Charles had cherished his son, even though he was divorced from Rachel, both of them had agreed that Finn was the most precious product of their tumultous 16 year marriage.</p><p>Finn volunteered to sing in front of small crowds sometimes, not for money, but just to entertain people. Attending libraries occasionally to read and educate himself about music, meeting up with friends, coworkers of his job to discuss forming a music group since most of them played a lot of instruments. One day, he was sitting upside down on one of the long couches in the library, reading a biography about the royals even though he had to sit through an hour long lecture about them when he was a child. The thing is that he did not pay attention, so knowing about it now would not bother him in the tiniest bit of ways. Finn's legs were propped up against the wall, and the blood was flowing to his head but he couldn't seem to really care about that, too busy on the Meghan Markle chapter.</p><p>"Comfortable, hm?" Came a certain voice that spooked him enough to clumsily drop the book onto his face after tensing up. "Do you usually sit like that whenever you come here?"</p><p>Finn lifted the book off of his face, immediately sitting up only to fall off of the couch, rolling over on the floor, and then standing up again to plop back down on the seat. Finn met Paul's eyes, quickly tried to adjust his hair while clearing his throat to make sure his voice did not sound ugly in front of this wonderfully attractive man. "Um, no - just when I'm immersed in this book."</p><p>Paul chanced a glance at the book, and skimmed his eyes over it before giggling through his mask. "A biography about the royals?" He asked, walking closer and picking it up off of the floor to look at the front, flip it, and then gloss over the backside of the book. Finn watched him with a small blush becoming painted onto his cheeks the more Paul read, his breath hitched when Paul looked back at him with a small smile that showed cutely in his eyes. "Read it to me."</p><p>"Huh?" Finn asked, his eyes wide as Paul took a seat down next to him, turning his body to face Finn with both of his hands slapping excitedly at his lap, bouncing his leg eagerly.</p><p>"You heard me, read it to me."</p><p>Finn paused, looking at Paul and then back at the book, then back at Paul. "Well - okay." He chuckled breathlessly, before furrowing his eyebrows. "From the beginning to end?" Finn asked, not prepared for the way Paul gazed at him, hazel eyes seeming fond and welcoming which had caused the other man to slowly relax the more time he spent with him.</p><p>Paul had giggled softly again, adorable, and answered Finn with a sweet. "From the beginning."</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">3 hours later.</span> </em>
</p><p>"The end, or to be continued? The royals are still alive so another biography might be on the way, and maybe I could read that to you too Paul." Finn said, smiling, as he shyly flipped the pages of the book that took them three hours near the library closing to finish. The result of that is them having to be left alone together in the upstairs part of the library where no one else was, having the staff attendant slack off and scroll through twitter in the backroom. Meanwhile Paul had his cheek pressed up against his palm, his observant eyes gazing unashamedly into the side of Finn's head, skimming over the boy's noticeable features and the small freckles he seen spottered here and there. When Finn looked at him, seemingly smiling even though Paul couldn't see it, the raven haired man had removed his mask which caused Finn to blink.</p><p>"You took the face mask off." He said softly, his eyes cautiously glancing down at the soft looking lips, before looking back up into Paul's eyes. "I don't think, that's allowed."</p><p>"It's just us Finn." Paul had said before he began to smirk, moving closer towards Finn which made the other withdraw a breath.</p><p>"But still, I don't think you should..." Finn trailed off and let his eyes follow the movement of Paul's hand, he watched flustered as Paul moved his hand behind Finn's ear to gently unhook his mask which caused the other boy to gasp a bit at the soft touch of Paul's fingers brushing against his skin. The mask had fallen discreetly to one ear, the rest of his attractive face being presented to Paul while the man had begun to caress his cheek, thumb brushing against the gentle skin under his eye which made butterflies flutter aggressively in Finn's stomach. "Paul?" Finn croaked, breath hitching a little when he noticed the raven haired man leaning in closer. This was definetly beating the laws of social distancing. </p><p> "Finn," Paul had sighed out, ignoring Finn's protest of not following pandemic mask rules, his soft breath tickling Finn's flustered face. Noticing how the boy's eyes fluttered from the straight up <em>provacative</em> way Paul said his name at that very second, Paul smiled gently. "God aren't you the prettiest?" He spoke in a manipulative tone, moving his hand down a little bit to gently grip at Finn's jawline and tilt his head up.</p><p>Finn had squirmed on the couch, elicting a soft gasp when the pad of Paul's thumb pulled lightly on his bottom lip, God and he was just sitting here, letting him dip his finger inside of his mouth. Fuck. So deep in the spell of Paul's soothing voice, and the warmth of him so close. </p><p>With his legs clenching together, and his heart racing from the stimulation birthing inside of his pants when Paul leant in to trace the sweetest of kisses along his neck, Finn had let out a breathy moan and loosened his grip on the book. "Oh," Finn squeaked, dropping the book on the floor anyways when Paul's other hand had slyly crept up his leg, gently coercing its way in between his thighs to grope at his interested cock. "Paul." He moaned out, trying to keep his breaths even and quiet while Paul mouthed casually at his neck, tongue running along the sensitive skin which conducted tremors to rack up and down Finn's body. </p><p>Even though they had just met, Finn had fallen victim to Paul's ministrations under a short time span of three hours.</p><p>Paul in the meantime had continued to stroke Finn's throbbing cock through his pants with his skillful hands, he could actually feel his patience dwindling down for his hurry to make this guy cum and ask for his number for future plans, but he kept it under control in the long run. There seemed to be a long moment that had passed when Finn grappled at his shirt, thrusting his hips up against Paul's moving hand, and moaning into his own hand to keep quiet in the upper part of the silent library. Pulling away, Paul moved Finn's hand away with his own and gripped the back of his neck to pull him into a ravishing kiss that caused Finn to mewl delightfully. Now distracting the boy with his skillful tongue brushing against Finn's, Paul had impatiently unzippped the front of his pants and dug his hands inside of his underwear to properly jerk him off.</p><p> Finn had gorgeously twisted and jerked from the touch, eyes rolling back leisurely as his legs began to shake, the pleasure that he hadn't felt in a long time began to overwhelm him, which made the boy spasm against Paul while he came uncontrollably onto the other man's fist and hand. Too early for him to even catch up since the stimulation became too much, and it made him whine into the kiss a bit from embarassment as he trembled, breathless, panting. Paul had opened his eyes, pulling away from Finn's lips, staring unreadably at the flustered man's face for a couple of quiet seconds before breaking out into a shy smile.  "I'm sorry, I- I don't always cum that early." Finn had stuttered, lips quivering as his eyes glistened in the light.</p><p>"You're fine doll." Paul had replied gently, brushing the back of his clean hand against Finn's cheek, a devilish stare that Finn didn't catch. "Look at you, you're so cute." He mumbled deeply, making Finn even more flustered, for a second he could feel himself falling in love with this.. random man that he barely even knew but had let him stroke his dick until he almost passed out.</p><p>"Can- can I have your number?" Finn stammered, still loose in the head from the quick orgasm. Paul was surprised, kind of strange how Finn asked for his number instead.</p><p>--</p><p>Oh how it all took a turn.</p><p>Paul had opened the door to his home with one hand being held behind his back, being greeted with a beautiful bright smile and an innocent look plastered on his face. Fucking Finn. Luckily, he around at the exact time Paul had a weapon in his hands. Yet he still blinked at him in dilligent surprise, before smiling warmly at him and stepping to the side so that Finn could walk into the home. "You're here early. I thought we was going to meet up at five."</p><p>Finn trotted in happily, holding a wrapped up surprise for Paul in his hands. "I really wanted to see you. I know it might sound crazy, but I missed you to be honest." He said looking around the lovely home with bright eyes, Paul had blankly stared at him for a quick second that Finn was too distracted to notice before looking down at the floor, feeling a little bit shy from the sudden confession. Finn's eyes landed on Paul again, smiling and becoming a little abashed himself. "Did you miss me?" He questioned, steeping towards Paul, the warmth in the atmosphere growing and spreading through both of their chests.</p><p>Paul looked up from the floor, and gazed right into Finn's curious eyes. "Yes, I missed you a lot."</p><p>Blushing embrassingly too much from that little sentence, Finn had then shyly  held up the surprise he got from Paul which made the man raise his eyebrows in interest. "I um- I bought you something." He softly confessed, the smile on his face growing a little when Paul had carefully grasped at the small box, raising it up to his ear to shake it gently. "I hope you like it! My friend told me to get that for anyone that you begin to like, and I like you." Finn continued, more confident now as he clasped both of his hands behind him while bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. Paul watched as the man moved, his brown hair swaying and gleefully matching the movements of Finn, all in all the boy looked so innocent in this moment. Genuinely wanting to get to know Paul. </p><p>Paul smirked at him. How cute.</p><p>And then he said: "I have a surprise for you too Finn."</p><p>Finn blinked, and began to blush from the thought of Paul actually gifting him something. The literal thought of Paul having the same thoughts as he did about giving something to him for their meetup made his heart speed up, and butterlfies immerse in his stomach. "Really? Where?"</p><p>Everything had froze at that moment, going from Paul whisking the box to the floor, his arm being removed from behind his back and Finn's eyes widening, and following the surprise he gave as it crashed to the ground. All before a frown of confusion had crept its way onto his bubbly face. Then in a mere 6 tenths of a second Paul was swishing the sharp knife across Finn's face,  following up with his knuckles to make it a swift punch, and before the freckled man could even prepare for the blow there was a deep cut already circulating under his eye to the bridge of his nose - making his skin of his nose peel apart a bit where blood had oozed out breezily, the punch afterwards had caused his body to fly onto the wall and hit the floor <em>hard</em>. </p><p>Finn fell onto his front, vision immediately blurred but the cold turned into searing pain thart made him still against the floor in a few seconds of stunned silence as droplets of blood poured out dangeorusly fast. It took about five seconds for him to come back from the immediate shock, letting out a airy gasp as he shivered on the floor, body curling up a little from the sudden pain that enveloped his form. Paul had quietly trekked behind him, his eyes emotionless as Finn shook on the floor and whimpered out from the pain, dazed almost completely out of his mind.</p><p>"Paul? Paul what-" Finn choked out, before he felt himself being impaled in the upperback, his eyes widening quickly and blood immediately surging out of his mouth as he screamed out. "<em>Stop</em>!" He yelped, pupils blowing in fear as he tried to turn around on his injured back to face the hovering, unhinged man, only getting a few degrees to see the bored look on Paul's face as he walked towards the front of him after locking the door. "Paul? What's wrong with you? Why did you do this?" Finn questioned in the midst of his panic. When Paul had nonchalantly kicked him back onto his front, realization had struck him like a train, eyebrows furrowing and his arms flailing against the blood spilled floor whilst he attempted to crawl away from the raven haired man, bleeding profusely from his backside and his face. "G-Get away from me!"</p><p>Paul had rolled his eyes, and shook his hand out since it was stinging from how hard the punch was to Finn's used-to-be lovely face, afterwards he was leaning down to grab roughly at Finn's firm arm. Literally dragging him away from the front door before anyone outside could suspect something strange going on inside of his house. </p><p>Finn screamed out for help, wildly twisting around despite the strong winds of pain wracking through his injured body, for a second Paul's grip had slipped from the consistent struggle Finn had put up. Finn had found himself making an escape towards the door, limping but fast as he threw himself against the door, quickly trying to unlock it before the raven haired man had rushed over and punched him directly in the face. Finn had cried out, attempting to throw a few jabs himself, until Paul had incapacitated him by throwing a big nasty blow to his stomach.Finn fell onto the floor, holding his stomach as he crumbled. </p><p>Paul was merciless this time, grabbing him up again by his <em>hair</em>, and slamming him fully back onto the ground. "That's not nice Finn." Paul had frustratedly said, masking the frustration with an insanely sweet tone to his voice that made Finn's own sanity begin to spiral. Tightening his grip ferociously on his hair, nails digging painfully into Finn's scalp,  Paul had pulled him through the house towards his basement.</p><p>Finn was flailing helplessly, punching and scratching his nails nonstop at Paul's arm as he kicked his legs, "No! No! No! Someone help me! PLEASE!" He cried out in a broken voice, wailing and sobbing as he was taken downstairs somewhere when he heard Paul open a door. Finn had choked uncontrollably on his blood and tears, almost going insane as he could already see the flashes of his life before his eyes when he was suddenly being settled down onto the floor. Paul had flicked a light on, and began to walk over to a certain table that was settled in the back of the basement room, humming gently while grasping at the ducktape after fitting on some blue gloves.</p><p>"Paul please, don't do this, <em>please</em>, please." Finn begged, and pleaded as he cried, he wanted his mom and dad, to call them one last time before anything had happened to him. Apologize for all his wrong doings. Try to retrace what the fuck he had did wrong for him to be wrapped up in this situation. God he felt fucking disgusting, the boy had thought of Paul sweet talking him into letting Finn submit, letting this man dig his hands in his pants the same hands that had the blood of multiple men on them. Jerk him off and then slowly fall for him overtime after that one fucking thing. </p><p>Finn was wretching, feeling vomit formulate in his gut from how sick this is. How sick Paul is. </p><p>What the fuck was he thinking? Finn was thoroughly regretting <em>everything</em> when he heard the sound of ducktape being pulled, looking up at the handsome disgrace before a human being who was doing something with the tape. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."</p><p>"God, won't you shut the fuck up." Paul had suddenly demanded, the words being irritatedly spat out. Well there was one emotion that Finn noticed was there, and it was anger. Turning around to face the bleeding and crying boy, leaning casually against the table as he pulled out a stripe of duck tabe and some scissors to cut it, Paul had mumbled something unaudible to Finn under his breath. Finn had helplessly withered on the floor, head hurting, back hurting, his chest hurting as well. Paul had walked over to him, and smacked the glob of ducktape over Finn's mouth as he mumbled lowly to him. "Pissing me the fuck off with all of that screaming."</p><p>Finn flinched from the harsh tone, looking desperately into Paul's eyes to search for some type of humanity that this man should still have an ounce of, but Paul had unfortunately <em>or</em> fortunately moved away from him before he could even find it. Finn eventually grew tired of struggling while he bled out from different areas, slowly accepting his fate as he let the side of his head hit the floor, silent tears rolling down his cheeks while he thought about his family. His mom, his dad, his friends.  Squeezing his eyes closed, he cried and cried while hearing the sound of a gun click. </p><p>Shit. </p><p>Pointing his gun, point blank, Paul pulled the trigger and shot Finn square in the head, killing the man instantly as he stilled on the floor with his teary eyes still opened. Paul inhaled through his nose, shot him again in the throat this time, and then exhaled through his mouth while his eye had twitched. "Piece of fucking shit." He muttered darkly to himself, clenching his jaw as he turned the safety off and sat the gun back down on the table. Paul was reffering to himself however, cursing himself out for being so careless in this one and having Finn scream so much which could have alerted anyone. That one marked 23. Usually someone would be somehow  caught around this time, but that did not want to cross through his head at the moment.</p><p>Hopefully Finn didn't make that much of a mess near his front doorway, Paul hadn't expected him to be bleeding that much in the first place. </p><p>Exposing of his body should be fairly easy, he had big enough trash bags and a few spots on his map, very far away. It made the police think that the serial killer was living in another town besides Liverpool since none of the bodies were usually found here. What kept the cops bugging around the area is that men would go <em>missing</em> from here, and found elsewhere. Paul had eregiously thought about that as he moved Finn's body into the bag, struggling a little since dead people always seem to weigh more pounds than usual for some reason. "You were cute Finn, very talkative but really cute." He found himself saying, it made him a bit confused since he'd rarely speak his thoughts aloud to dead people but oh well. "It's not you Finn, it's me." </p><p>Paul had paused, tying the bag up and retracing back to those words, sounding much more despondent this time. "It's always been me." </p><p>•••</p><p>Nachos. </p><p>George fucking loved them. The slightly salty but corn-like and addicting flavor giving his tastebuds a joyride whenever he airplaned the chips into his mouth. Dipping the said chips into the bowl of hot liquid cheese set on the table in front of them, he had then swirled the chip around the cheese filled bowl dreamily before bringing it up to his mouth, biting down slowly on it. George had then glanced over at Paul while chewing on the food, skimming his eyes over the man who seemed to be back in his depressive slump, just fucking around on his phone doing nothing but moping and being non talkative. </p><p>The two of them had decided to meet with each other at George's house, since the younger man was bored and he wanted to have some type of movie night throughout the quarantine. Paul had his hands in his pockets again, his eyes looking dark and coated with something that George could not understand since he stopped trying to, the raven haired man was barely even blinking though. George had aggressively waved his hand in front of Paul's face after awhile, bringing color back to his eyes and making the older flinch a little from the hand, forming a small pout on his lips. "What was that for?"</p><p>"You were zoning out for a minute now." George said nonchalantly, eyeing Paul with the familiar concerned feeling creeping up on him as the man became silent again, reaching over to pluck some nachos off of the plate that was settled in between them. "I wish you'd talk to me about your feelings Paul. I feel like there's a bridge coming between us, and it really hurts because you used to be so opened with your feelings." He confessed, immediately capturing Paul's surprised attention. "After that night when you lost that comic competition, you really changed, and it's-" George sighed, getting frustrated at his own hesitance. "It's making me sad." </p><p>Paul's eyes lingered on George before transferring back to the television, and then he found himself biting down harshly on his bottom lip as he tapped his fingers thoughtfully into the lap. It was quiet again, and George was growing annoyed at both himself for being so passive about this and Paul for not talking to him. This was his best friend being so closed off with literally everything, to a point where he could not really hold a conversation with him anymore, George was feeling incredibly left out without actually being left out. Then again, he was always being left out. </p><p><b>#12. </b> <b>Summer.</b></p><p>Sighing blissfully, his beautiful eyes closed for a couple of seconds causing his long, naturally thick lashes to sweep gorgeously against his flustered cheeks. Coming down from his orgasm after a few more seconds of labored breaths, and cute moans, Paul had slowly dug his left hand underneath the pillow while an older man had continued to pepper the soft skin of his chest with soft, and wet kisses. The poor man's name was Doug, the lucky but not lucky guy that held Paul's legs opened at the moment. There was a visible recoil at the name on the inside when the man came up to Paul at the bar of an expensive hotel, a day where Paul had actually wanted to be alone due to an upsetting phone call with his brother. That call being the last time he talked to him in awhile. A long while.</p><p> Doug was still buried inside of him much to Paul's slowly gathering annoyance, thrusting up and causing Paul's eyes to fly open immediately when his prostate was struck again, his back beginning to arch off of the bed as a light moan exited his lips. </p><p>"Yeah, that's right, moan for me." Doug grunted, aggressively fucking Paul against the bed for the second time that night. Paul had withered underneath him, whimpering mindlessly and panting out as intense pleasure began to overide his senses. <em>Some</em> of them. Still, he gripped the hammer that was still tucked under his pillow as if his lifeline was on it, Doug thought he was gripping the sheets, but that was just his bad vision. "Ah - you're so tight for me baby. Say my name. " The older man had hissed, thrusting into the trembling man harder, the headboard smacking against the wall simultaneously with his nuts smacking against Paul's ass. </p><p>Paul moaned out again his hips bucking down subconciously and his legs trembling against Doug's waist. When the demand to say his name had sunk into his head, Paul had discreetly rolled his eyes at the demand but the dick was too good for him to just refuse at the moment. "Doug," His breath hitched, walls desperately clenching around the thick cock inside of his hot body, hugging Doug warmly which made the big man shudder. </p><p>Unfortunately, the pending orgasm was overtaken by the murderous desire and Paul had reached up to grasp at Doug's shoulder as leverage while he continued to be fucked against the bed. Doug was too busy gripping the sheets to even care about a strong hand squeezing at this shoulder for some type useless last minute warning, he was proudfully staring down at the majestic sight of his cock going in and out of Paul before moving his gaze up to the pretty face, gentle eyes staring at him with a look that seemed sadistically sexy.  Doug had grunted at the sight, and licked at his lips hungrily. </p><p>Fucking into the boy harder, Doug was so close, <em>so</em> close to cumming - again. Speaking with his mouth being wide open, he airily uttered. "Oh fuck Paul, you're so much better than my-"</p><p>The younger man had tensed up when he whisked the hammer from under the pillow right before Doug could even finish that sentence.</p><p>A literal death bong sound resounded across the room as Paul struck Doug <em>hard</em> in the temple with the hammer, obliterating the front of his skull on impact. Moving the hammer while the older man tried to figure out whether or not he was in pain or if the pleasure was too good he was feeling pain. A life ending  concussion flooding him, and a sharp bone of his skull penetrating a lobe of his brain mercilessly. Stilling up in his position, Doug had slowly begun falling off of Paul with his head bleeding and bruised, his nose pouring out blood as his eyes almost bulged out of his head. </p><p>Paul had tilted his head against the pillow so that he was facing the old man, staring at him with a small smile on his face as if this was a comedic act. </p><p> Doug had silently struggled up onto his knees, naked and bleeding while attempting to register the pain coursing through his head, his body. Paul on the other hand had eventually sat up, his cock already softening as he stretched his arms out over his head with a soft yawn, standing up gracefully onto his two feet and strolling over towards Doug's belongings while the dying man was laying slumped against the door breathing heavily. </p><p>Paul had picked Doug's jacket up off of the chair, and casually put it on even though the room was hot, the length of the jacket falling down to his mid thighs whilst he dug in the pockets to remove a pack of his cigarettes and a wallet. "Where's your lighter?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he glanced around the room for the small fire tool. </p><p>Doug let out a rasped sound, sounding distinctively like Paul's name and 'help me' which made the manic beauty laugh aloud at the request. </p><p>"You think I'm a brain surgeon?" He questioned as he finally spotted the lighter on top of the desk in the corner of the room. Slipping over towards it eagerly while the rasping man reached up at the door with uncontrollably trembling hands, Paul had swayed his soft, plump ass side to side, already knowing that Doug had no choice but to stare at him while Paul leaned over to grab the lighter off of the desk. </p><p>"T-Two," Doug choked out, his eyes going bloodshot as Paul turned and sat down in a chair nearby the hotel window, cigarette settled between his lips while he nonchalantly flickered on the lighter at the end of it. "Two-" He croaked, sputtering out a deathly cough, jerking his hands in Paul's direction while he began to slip into never ending unconciousness. Paul looked up and stared at him amusedly as he took a drag from the cigarette, his hands flipping open the wallet. He didn't want any money from Doug, to be frank he found that cheap and cowardly. If he wanted to rob him, he would have killed him after getting the money from the older man, make him beg. </p><p>Paul removed a family photo from one of the pockets with one hand, the other taking the cigarette out of his mouth as he disrespectfully exhaled the smoke onto the photo. Two kids, and a wife huh? Paul stared at her fondly, sitting back in the chair as he continued to smoke the cigarette. So the old man was cheating on her, fucking Paul (someone barely even half of his age) like his life would end if he did not fuck him hard enough, which was kind of true. The wife must have been the end of that sentence 'you're so much better than my wife' how disturbing. </p><p>Even though with two beautiful kids and pretty wife waiting for him at home, he was spending his time with a man he barely even knew. "Tsk," Paul had shook his head, and looked up at the man who was certainly dead against the door with a disgusted expression on his face. "People like you make me fucking sick." He muttered as if he was any better, and then the thought had birthed into his head. "And people like me make other people sick."</p><p>There was a pounding at the door. "Hey! You can't smoke in here! Whoseever in there!"</p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Panicking, and shaking with immediate <em>fear</em> of someone walking in, actual fear from what he had done. Paul quickly put the cigarette up, mushing it against the floor with the use of Doug's forgotten shoe while his mind was going rampid. Running over towards his bag, and then sprinting towards the bed, Paul had grapsed at the hammer, then he grabbed at the pack of condoms on the nightstand too. God. Paul looked around the hotel room frantically for any sign of his other belongings, his breathing quickening as another knock birthed onto the door. "Also there's a noise complaint! I know you're probably with your lady-" Paul has sped to his clothes, gathering each and every article of clothing that he took off. "But still! Keep it down! Okay?"</p><p>Quietly, if you could call breathing heavily from your mouth quiet, he had put his clothes back on, taking Doug's jacket off and hurriedly throwing it somewhere in the bathroom before pulling a hoodie over his head and yanking up a his pair of pants. The sounds of his belt making it harder to be quiet which made a soft chant of: "Shit, shit, shit.: Pour out of the pretty boy's mouth. Paul had then carelessly thrown his shoes on with trembling hands that he could not seem to control, running to grab at his bag that was situated on the bed, before quickly opening the window to the hotel. Two fucking stories? What the hell was he supposed to now? If he jumped then that'd be it for his legs, probably. Fuck. Fuck. <em>Fuck</em>. </p><p>There was another pound at the door, and Paul began to sweat profusely, almost hyperventilating. "Hey! Do you hear me? Do I have to come in there?"</p><p>That was the cue, all that he needed, or all that his self control needed. Paul had then jumped out of the window when the beep of the door conjured, signaling that it was beginning to open. Landing recklessly on both of his feet, his feeling something painful like his knee dislocating on impact and a small hint of something inside of his legs snapping, ankle spraining and his knees buckling altogether, Paul had forcefully gathered himself the best he could, beginning to run at his limit speed down the street. </p><p>The sounds of screaming from the opened window hotel room could be heard which attracted several onlookers attention, it all causing him to stifle a pained along with a panicked: "Fuck." Under his breath as he fearfully sprinted, bumping into certain people but not letting them get the mere chance of spotting his face for some future convienence. </p><p>The guy who found Doug's body had tearfully ran towards the window, noticing it was opened as security sped into the room, one guy already phoning the ambulance with a hysterical voice. </p><p>No sign of anyone. </p><p>"Holy fucking <em>shit</em>!" He shrieked helplessly, hands clutching as his hair, and pulling at it as he yelled into the air. "Someone get help! Please! Help!" </p><p>-</p><p>Paul had leaned in and kissed fatherly at George's forehead as if the younger man was his son. The younger blushed, feeling strongly confused from the sudden affectionate action. "You wouldn't get it George." Paul had somberly murmured after a few seconds, pulling away and patting at his cheek before taking his phone out as if it was the end of the conversation. Paul wanted it to be. He couldn't lose George, the younger would not understand the way Paul is, and he'd treat him like animals and kids treat him. Like a monster. </p><p>That's not who he was, right? </p><p>Paul wasn't staring at his phone anymore even though it was in his face.</p><p>- A monster is too far fetched, a stretch if anything. </p><p>Paul was staring at the small bloodstain left on the leg of his pants. A rookie mistake, now he had to go and awkwardly clean it off. </p><p>•••</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>my updating schedule is about to be all squiggly bc i either have chapters done or have nothing done by the deadline<br/>anyways excuse the errors!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Placing down the cleaning basket onto the chair, John had reached for the spray and picked it up, twisting it tight since it's usually loose from the other careless associate. Humming to the music Shelby was playing from the radio connected from her office and blasting out of the small speaker on the ceiling of the building, John had sprayed at the several tables which were separated more than usual since social distancing forced the agenda. No one had ever sat at a table at this coffee shop anyway, unless they were a college kid making up some missing work before they went to the school in the morning. John would know, since he was one of those college kids.</p><p>However, the coming to the coffee shop and studying + making up work had only been before the hardhitting pandemic, and sitting inside of a building was extremely prohibited at the moment. John did not question why he had to wipe the tables down if they aren't being used though, because there was no reason to question it. This shit is airbourne and when a difficult person comes in without a mask which is rare, but it still happens on some occasions, then you might have to wipe things down. Might as well just do what is expected.</p><p>John had wiped the table down thoroughly, yawning a little since he was still kind of tired from studying all night. Cynthia and Stuart were helping him with flashcards of geometry terms since John was screwing up big time in math. It was something out of secondary school, but it didn't matter because John struggled with math in that part of his life as well. Good thing he doesn't live with Mimi anymore, he couldn't bear the rare nights where she'd speak up and shriek at him for not knowing how to do equations and then she'd phone his teachers to blame them as well. Mind you, this was afterschool and around midnight. Laughing under his breath at the memory, John had twirled his way towards the other table, sprayed it again and then wiped it down.</p><p>Shelby walked out of the backroom, blinking her eyes and fixing her glasses on her tired face. "John dear," She called out which made John bring his attention towards her, eyebrows raised as he hummed a soft 'hm?' while Shelby had just pulled out her phone to pull up what she was talking about. "Did you get the notification?"</p><p>John had frowned, and shook his head innocently at her. "No, my phone is charging in the lounge."</p><p>Shelby nodded, and began to look onto her phone. "There's a town message that went out, and it says that another man has been missing, last seen here in Liverpool, January 13th." She had tragically announced in a rightfully downcasted tone of voice, and John's blood had ran cold in his veins at the news and nausea had swarmed viscously throughout his frame, causing him to slump against the table.</p><p>Another one.</p><p>Possibly fucking dead. There's no way.</p><p>-</p><p>"Another one is gone Paul, I'm so fucking <em>scared</em>." George had shakingly cried over the phone, his body trembling as he laid trembling in his own bed. "What if- what if they're watching us?" He panted, chest tightening and fear making his blood curdle. "I might move away from here, honestly this shit is getting out of hand. I can't stay here with this - this- fucking <em>creep</em> going around and snatching innocent young men."</p><p>Paul was running a razor down his growing stubble to shave himself clean, eyeing himself numbly in the mirror as George continued to sob over the phone. "Easy Geo, catch your breath okay? I'm scared too. Do you want me to come over?" He had asked, feigning a high pitched and trembling voice so that he seemed just as shaken up. To be frank, he was trying not to laugh at how terrible he sounds when he tried to act fake concerned, his potiential voice acting career literally just crash landed before he could even decide on having one. George had stifled another cry, and muffled out a 'yes, please' which made Paul cautiously hurry up his shaving so that he could depart from his home. "Okay, I'll pick something up for you before I get there."</p><p>-</p><p>"That's so fucking scary. I literally just saw him come in this library the other day!"</p><p>Cynthia had silently listened in, four math books for John clutched tightly against her chest as she stared at two young women gossiping about seeing Finn - the fucking 20 year old man that went missing - for the last time in this library. God this was so fucking sick, Cynthia felt like she was going to vomit as they continued to talk with each other. "It's so fucking crazy because Finn used to come in here all of the time, he helped me arrange books, and he had the greatest singing voice. Always asking for advice about things, relationships, school. I hope he's found."</p><p>"Evelyn," The other woman had sighed, placing her tea mug down while shaking her head in disappointment, placing her hand on her own neck. "They're not going to find him. It's going to be like last time. A young man goes missing from here, and the body is found in Manchester or somewhere far away from here." She hopelessly explained, making Evelyn slump in her seat with a genuinely sad look on her face. Cynthia's face had gone red, her eyes tearing up to the brim with hot tears of anguish for the poor man and his family.</p><p>With her bottom lip quivering, she checked out with the educational math books at the librarian's desk, and rushed out of the building, not mentally able to stand inside of it any longer since it painfully sink into her mind that this was the last time anyone had seen Finn.</p><p>-</p><p>Tap, tap, tap.</p><p>John looked up from the math book Cynthia had brought from the library before replacing John on the register since Shelby had told the auburn haired man to study a little bit before he started his shift. Being surprisingly greeted by McCartney casually leaning against one of the tables with his forearm, the man's eyelashes so fucking long at this closeup angle, John felt his breath being sucked out of him. "Lennon right?" Paul queried, eyed him up and down, raw want just shamelessly flickering in his gaze that made John stare at him in disbelief of his perfect existence, the mask hiding out how his lips were embarassingly parted in a dazed silence from the sudden reappearance of the beauty.</p><p>"Um," John made a soft noise, began to sweat, nodding his head as Paul penetrated deeply into his eyes. Jesus <em>Christ</em>. Paul had tapped his hand on the table again, making John jump a bit from the interruption of his unintentional gawking and finally tear his eyes away from Paul while the raven haired man laughed softly. "Yes, sorry. I just got distracted, you've got really lovely eyes."</p><p>Paul hummed, narrowing them coquettishly. "Is that so Lennon?" He purred, making John's grip on the mathbook tighten as his head began to spin. Despite John's already flustered look, Paul had neared him with a lower tone: "Do you like it when I stare at you?"</p><p>John took in a breath, and eventually gathered himself as he looked back at those piercing hazel eyes. "Yes, yes I do.</p><p>Paul had smirked, something strong bristling inside of him and down between his legs.</p><p>"Johnny! Is that man bothering you?" Cynthia jokinly asked, pulling her blonde hair back in a bun, a friendly smile on her face as she looked over at her best friend and the handsome stranger leaning on the table. "Or are <em>you</em> bothering him?"</p><p>John had then turned his attention towards her, and stuck up his middle finger. Cynthia had turned around, and smacked at her own butt which made John sputter out laughing since Shelby walked right in on that. Paul looked back and forth between them, his expression looking blank and innocent for once, but his mind was still racing as he looked back at John. Something evilly warm and slightly possessive had washed over him, when he glared over at John who was still giggling when Shelby scolded Cynthia about what she had done, watching as the girl kept sending glances at him that screamed 'this is your fault.' Paul cocked his head, an eyebrow raising when he asked: "Is that your girlfriend?"</p><p>John, still giggling, looked at Paul and shook his head. "No, she's my best friend, a lot of people ask that though. It's interesting." His giggles faded into a soft smile that Paul could see from the way his almond eyes were still adorably scrunched up. "But anyways, back to you<em> McCartney</em>." John had the audacity to tap his finger against Paul's clothed forearm, pressing down on it while fluttering his brown eyes up at him suggestively. "What are you here for?"</p><p>It was Paul's turn to be flustered, and that <em>barely</em> ever happens. It was a different kind of flustered though that made him extremely uncomfortable of the way his heart was skipping, especially when John slowly blinked at him. Too inviting for his liking. So Paul moved his arm, leaning off of the table and shoving his hands in his pockets as his cheeks went a light red. Thankfully John didn't see it, there's no way Paul would let him see that he made him blush from just a small touch. "I was hoping for you to make me something again. Your kind of tea. The sugary kind." He shyly explained, not meeting the man's eye for some reason beyond him.</p><p>"Ooh," John cooed, seemingly oblivious to how flustered he made Paul. "I can't do it for you right now. I'm not clocked in." And then a bright idea popped up in his eyes, and Paul had followed his gaze towards the blonde who was now pouting by the register after being scolded. "Hey Cyn! Can you make Paulie here my personal favorite, seems like we have the same tastes."</p><p>Cynthia groaned playfully, "Not another sugar baby! Okay Paulie, your order is coming up!"</p><p>John clicked his tongue, a soft smirk on his face, and his hand now pressed up against his cheek, as he retraced Paul's attention. "Called you a sugar baby. Are you going to let her get away with that?"</p><p>Paul shrugged, feeling awkward and conflicted at the same time. "Doesn't really matter to me." He said, trying to stay casual despite the surging dislike he had forming against Cynthia. John had laughed sweetly at that, and it made Paul look away from him again to stare down cautiously at his shoes. John had a cute laugh, a laugh that was too cute for Paul to not become annoyed at since it was cute.</p><p>"You're adorable Paul." John had dreamily sighed, going back to paying attention to his matth book.</p><p>On second thought, Paul actually wanted to fuck the <em>shit</em> out of him until John couldn't seem to stand straight. Side eyeing the gorgeous man as he delved back into serious mode, reading and studying the equations in his book, strands of his auburn hair falling in front of his face. Beautiful hands fingering the edges of the pages in preparation to flip them when he was skimming his eyes over the page he was on now, Paul wanted to watch John finger himself open for him with those fingers while he withered underneath the heat of the younger's stare, the explicit thought made Paul close his eyes for a bit and shudder from the possiblities when he gets to know this man. The sexual thoughts had purged through his mind when he had gave Cynthia the money when the blonde approached him, as he took the ice tea into his hand.</p><p>Paul began to depart towards the door before he was possessed to look back at John again. "I'll see you later <em>Johnny</em>." He said, putting emphasis on the word like Cynthia did.</p><p>John looked up again, smiling with his eyes. "Bye Paulie."</p><p>-</p><p>It was rare, but here he was minutes after spending hours with George, he was taking some girl on his bed. Titties in his face.</p><p>Paul's lips wrapped around a nipple as the girl (Angela) had attempted to reach down to grasp at the bulge protruding from his pants, Paul had grapsed at her wrist and pinned it up beside her head on his pillow. Angela had gasped lightly, hooking a right leg over Paul's waist as the feeling of a warm tongue circling her nipples had sent waves of surprise up her spine for a moment. Paul had hummed delightfully from how eager she is, and reached to grasp at her with his freehand hand, pulling it up over his shoulder. Angela threw her head back when the hand that held her wrist was now down at her still-clothed-crotch, middle and ring finger doing it's job by massaging her clit in ginger circles that made her shiver underneath the man.</p><p>Paul felt up her thighs, now moving her shirt up to brush his warm palm against her abdomen, up to her breasts as she withered gleefully underneath him, legs trembling around Paul and light moans passing through her pretty lips. Paul bit down on his bottom lip, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he pictured John in a similar position, but just his hands having to be wrapped gracefully around his cock. Angela was pleading for him to finger her or <em>something</em>, grinding her hips against Paul's teasing fingers as they pressed down on her clit, but went back to light circles that sent lashes of stimulation through her body. "Paul, oh- <em>fuck</em>, Paul!"</p><p>"Hm?" Paul looked down at her, amusement in his eyes. He kept forgetting how girls were so cute and needy when the sensitive part in between their legs were stimulated, Paul could never go wrong with them, or he could. Shoving his thoughts in the back of his already empty mind, Paul had scooted back on the bed pulling Angela's underwear off with his movements. "You look so beautiful underneath me baby girl." He mumbled, making Angela's heaving body heat up from the compliment, Paul's hypnotically smooth voice making her legs spread automatically. Looking down at the sight, a sigh of longing escaped his lips from the sight of wetness gushing gorgeously out of her and the visibility of her tight, pink entrance clenching desperately around nothing.</p><p>"Touch me, please.." Her breath hitched, fists clenching at the sheets as Paul began to undo his pants, black leather belt in contrast with his milky hands causing Angela to throw a horny fit, sobbing from anticipation before even getting fucked. Paul had charmingly smiled at her wanton request, slowly undoing the rest of his pants and scooting forward between her legs to lean down, kissing gently at her neck, collarbone while her hands had began to comb needily though his thick head of hair. When his lips had trailed gently up her jawline, meeting her own while his hand reached down in between them to pull his cock out through the opening of his briefs, Angela had stifled a delightful mewl when the man had suckled gently on her tongue.</p><p>When Paul eased himself inside of her Angela had lost it, immediately bucking her hips down so that he could go deeper, gasping out his name when Paul had thrusted lovingly into her. Sitting up on his forearm, Paul had quietly stared down at the hypnotized woman as he fucked himself into her in a deliberately slow pace, lidded eyes skimming over her hickey littered neck as his other hand began to run up her chest. Angela had let her trembling hands hold onto Paul's waist as his hips moved in a criteria of slow thrusts that made her plead breathlessly for him to go faster, her eyes fluttering and trying to stay open but with herself being too overwhelmed, it was beginning to feel helpless.</p><p>Paul couldn't hold back the soft moan that left his lips when she began to grind her hips in time with his, his gentle breath coating her face. "Fuck," He muttered deeply, diving down to kiss lovingly at her cheek. Angela whined out his name again and threw her legs around his waist as Paul finally sped up, his own pleasure beginning to build after teasing the both of them with slow tranquil thrusts at first. Whispering a shaky chant of, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me." Into his ear repeatedly, making Paul shiver against her body going faster, rocking his whole bed as his cock spurred in and out of her. "Shit you feel so good."</p><p>Angela shook, twisting underneath Paul, g-spot stimulated and her eyes fluttering to the back of her head while her moans begin to overlap each other. "Oh, <em>ooh</em>, fuck." She hissed aloud, Paul took a chance to bring a hand up to her neck, wrapping his fingers gently around her throat while their lips met. Angela scratched desperately at his skin, letting Paul's tongue dart between her lips, brushing against hers earnestly which effectuated a quavery moan to birth its way from the depths of her throat. Paul breathed heavily into her mouth, little sounds of his own getting slightly muffled from the wet kiss. Bringing her hands up to Paul's face, caressing his cheek and shoulder, she tightened her legs around his waist, breaking the kiss to throw her head back in ecstasy.</p><p>Paul watched assidously, continuing to embrace her neck with his palm, biting his bottom lip as he fought off the sudden determination to actually choke her. Women are innocent, they are not as barbaric as men, are they? There's no reason why he should hurt a woman. Some women deserve to get hurt, but not all. <em>Right</em>? Paul inhaled, leaning down to smother his lips into the soft skin, biting down on her neck as he fucked himself harder into her which had earned him literal shrieks of pleasure, the girl below him panting and crying out as she began to cum, wetting his cock up with her juices. Paul felt her clutch onto him tightly, trembling as she whimpered while her orgasm rocked her before loosening her grip on him as she rode it out second by second.</p><p>Paul blacked out and pulled her hair, held her neck, fucking her harder until he crumbled a little against her. Angela squeaked as he immediately pulled out of her, breathless and on the fucking edge when he yanked her up so that her face was near his cock. "Swallow it." Paul had ordered with his teeth gritted, and his chest heaving. Angela's hands were shaking as she nodded eagerly grabbing at his thighs, opening her mouth for him as he jerked himself off fiercely while the tip of his cock rested on the hump of her tongue. Paul came seconds afterwards, his eyes fluttering closed when he felt the tight suction of her lips wrapping around him, imagining that it was John's lips wrapped around him instead. John, John, John. Stupid, attractive, John.</p><p>Paul released a quiet moan, his body tensing up as Angela decided to bob her head down his cock while he came. Opening his eyes, he looked down at her and ran his hands through her tangled hair. "Good girl, <em>fuck</em>."</p><p>Angela had keened and pulled off, swallowing everything down without missing a single drop, stroking Paul's cock with a twist of her hand. "Paul? Who's John?"</p><p>Paul's breath hitched, cheeks reddening at the innocent question. Oh fuck.</p><p>-</p><p>John had his knees pulled up to his chest, laying his head on Stuart's shoulder as the two men watched the news. Fucking terrible. Finn's parents had came up next to the police officer as the attourney announced something that seemed to be a conclusion in everyone's brains. "The body to Finn Jackson has been found, and we are sorry to report to you all that he's no longer with us. The boy was only twenty years old. A town favorite." John had flinched, burying his face in his knees as the mother had started crying aloud, the father stonefaced and turning to comfort the wailing mother. Stuart had exhaled, hearing the sound of his younger friend sniffling, so he turned towards John wrapping his arms around him to pull him close so that John had hooked his arms around him instead, hiding his face in Stuart's chest as he cried softly.</p><p>"Finn! My baby!" The mother had screamed out, several people trying to console her as she sobbed out in pain. "Why him? He never wanted to hurt any body! Finn w-would," She choked up, micrphones shoved in her face as she tried to gather her words. "Finn would go to children's hospitals and read all the books he found in the library to the children! He'd always talk about wanting peace! Finn was never a bad person! WHY would anyone kill him like this? My son!"</p><p>"My God." Stuart huffed in disbelief, another innocent life being stripped away like this. He'd seen Finn around town, that kid was never always in one spot, and he always had the brightest smile. The fact that Stuart will never see him again did make his nose burn a little. It's also how many young men were targeted throughout the area, and the cops still haven't found anyone.</p><p>••</p><p>"The thing with this is that, they found Finn's body more faster than all of the other victims." George said on the phone to Ringo, walking right next to Paul as the two of them were headed towards the coffee shop where John worked at. Listening in on George, Paul had tried his best not to react to what was spilling out of his best friend's mouth. "So they must be warming up to a potiential suspect Rings! Can't you believe it? We're so close to getting justice. We can put this son of a bitch away, hopefully parliament can give him the death ticket."</p><p>Paul grimaced at that, he couldn't help it. The death sentence was just unecessary to Paul, and it was kind of ironic of him thinking that it was kind of extreme. "Thought you were against all of that Geo." He muttered quietly, but George still heard it since he made sure to pay mind to whenever Paul made so much of a little noise. That's how uncomfortably quiet the older could be sometimes, George had to literally retrain his ears to hear Paul whenever he decided to say something.</p><p>"I am, but you should agree that whoever this person is they deserve death." George had clapped back, and then Ringo must've said something that made him nod his head excitedly in agreement. "Even Ringo says that it should be a town execution like they did back in the middle age times."</p><p>Paul had snickered and began broadcasting that laugh that George missed hearing, he didn't hear the shakiness of it though. Dropping his head in a small nod of agreement, Paul had felt a pang of something that resembled hurt reside in his heart. It's not George's fault that he did not know though, but damn, the younger one kind of indirectly wished death on him and it'd be a lie if Paul said that it didn't hurt his feelings a little. "Yeah, that's what they deserve. Public execution." He said, still forcing a gentle giggle to follow up with his words. "Which one would you suggest?" Paul looked over at George, surprising the younger with a question.</p><p>"Which one would you suggest Rings?" George had transfered the question to his friend, taking the phone off of his ear to put it on speaker. "If there was a public execution of the serial killer, what kind of execution would choose for them? Hanging, boiled alive, burned at stake?"</p><p>"BURN HIM AT STAKE!" Ringo shrieked, making George and even Paul bust out laughing together simultaneously. George clutched at his stomach, giggling mindlessly as he bumped his side against Paul, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulder. Both of them would stop laughing for a few seconds until one of them started snickering again, sending the two men into another fit of hysterical laughter. Richard was still on the other end, rambling on. "Then again, children will be there too, but I think the parents could call some type of baby sitter and then go to the event. That sounds like an idea, right George?"</p><p>"I mean.. sure I guess? I don't think that we should burn them at stake. I feel like it should be an execution in the prison where the victims families could watch."</p><p>"And close friends." Paul added on softly, making George pat at his shoulder in agreement.</p><p>"Then it wouldn't be exactly public then." Richard had said, shoving some type of food in his mouth since his nexrt sentence became muffled. "It'd be a family and friend's execution, I personally want to see the asshole dead. Those innocent lives stripped away from twenty-three now? Twenty-three young men? It's disgusting."</p><p>"Finn marked twenty three people. We don't even know who's next." George said, lowering his voice all of a sudden when the realization of him and Paul being stalked by the serial killer had debuted in his head. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about it aloud. I'm outside right now, so they could be listening." Paul stared over at George, watching wordlessly as the man began to whisper at the last minute. "Listen, when I get home, I'll call you back okay?"</p><p>"Okay, stay safe. I hope you and your friend make it home safe. Make sure you lock your doors and windows too, I have mine locked."</p><p>George nodded as if Richard could see him, moving his arm from Paul's shoulder to wrap around  Paul's arm, clutching onto the older. "Okay, I will. I'll talk to you later."</p><p>Paul had waited until the younger hung up to ask him: "So that your new friend Ringo? He's funny, I like him." And the statement was genuine, Richard made Paul laugh for the first time in awhile even though the joke was indirectly about him. The nervousness inside of the humor was what had made him laugh along with George, it was dawning on him that if George ever found out - things would be bad. As said before, Paul can't lose George.</p><p>"Yeah that's him. I'm glad you're fond of him, he's really nice and sweet."</p><p>Paul raised a brow, putting his hand on George's waist to pull him in closer which made his younger friend stiffen up and smack at the sly arm, already knowing Paul's motives. "Am I not nice and sweet George? You never told me that I'm sweet." He squeezed playfully at George's hip, silently acknowledging the way George's breath caught lightly in his throat before releasing him to pick up his vibrating phone out of his pocket, and checking the notifcations.</p><p>"I swear one day you're going to do something wrong and we'll end up having sex, then we're just going to end up becoming more awkward with each other." George had complained, crossing his arms while pouting his lips at Paul who was too busy focused on who the hell was blowing up his phone. "Like you just ask for it sometimes! Don't complain when I end up on my knees for you, you don't even make it easy for me." He shamelessly continued, not even knowing that he was voicing some of the thoughts that'd run through his head whenever Paul would do the things he'd do to him. It's not like he had feelings for his friend, just the crippling sensations of wanting to have sex with him just once - it didn't mean anything.</p><p>"Shit." Paul spat annoyedly under his breath, blatantly ignoring George's statements as he began to walk again. "It's Michael. He said he wants to go to therapy with me."</p><p>George followed beside him, frowning. "What's wrong with that? I mean - I know it might be a bit weird for you since your last therapist was.. he- he went missing. Weren't you close with him?" He carefully asked, remembering how Paul ''took it hard'' when his therapist ended up going missing after their seventh meeting in a span of two months. Paul vowed to not go back to therapy ever since, and George had never felt so bad for his best friend the way he had did at that moment when both of them found out. Little did he know, Paul had suffocated his therapist to death, tears of angst rolling down his cheeks as his therapist tried to fight him, desperately needing some air. That number was buried in the back of Paul's head since he felt too vulnerable at that very moment.</p><p>"I don't think it's necessary to go back." Paul said grimly, eyes darkening. "They'll think that I'm crazy or some shit. It's always been that way."</p><p>George placed a gentle hand on his friend's arm, holding onto him as the two of them walked along. "If you talk to me, I won't think that you're crazy Paul. You're my best friend. You just need to open up to the right person, a lot of people are assholes and they judge you off the bat."</p><p>Paul looked at him, skimming his eyes over George's face before clenching his jaw and redrawing his gaze to look ahead. "I'll talk whenever I feel the need to. Right now I don't." He said in a low voice, firm and covered with something that sent ripples of chills down George's spine. "Let's just hurry up and get some food so we can go home. You don't want to miss the premiere of that one show right?" He questioned, voice more light and it captured George's attention after a couple of seconds.</p><p>"Yeah, let's hurry."</p><p>••</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>excuse the errors! :)<br/>chap is kinda heavyish</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Paul!" Michael had called out, angry and face red with frustration, immediately capturing his brother's attention from the reading homework he was assigned. "Cookie scratched me!" The ten year old yelled, seemingly furious. "Our neighbor didn't do anything about it either! I was only trying to pet the cat and it scratched me! Timothy told me that it wasn't going to hurt me either!" He yelled near tears, while Paul had sighed and closed his book, standing up with an impatient look in his eyes. Michael's eyes had followed him as Paul walked over towards the back door in the kitchen, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. </p><p>"Get the bucket Michael, fill it up with water, bring it into the neighbor's backyard." Paul had said, looking back at his younger brother of four years. "I'll go and get Timothy so we can all have a talk about it." </p><p>By 'talking' about it, Michael was blank in the head with the actual meaning of what the message was. So when he had carried the bucket full of water into the backyard, Michael's eyes had bulged when he seen his fourteen year old brother finish taping something around a crying Timothy's mouth, it looked as if he had a sock shoved into his mouth and his hands were tied behind his back with a belt. Michael noticed that Timothy had a blackeye as if he was punched in the face, and it made him conflicted on whether or not he should be happy or nervous for Timothy. Paul looked over at Michael, smiling a little when his brother set down the bucket of water. "Good, good. Now stay there while I go and get the cat."</p><p>"Paul - what are you going to do?" Michael asked, blinking as his brother stood up to go in the house while Timothy sniffed and struggled against the restraints. Paul entered the house, looking back at Michael and just smirked at him, some type of non answer in his face. Michael shuddered and raced over towards Timothy, ripping the tape off of his face and pulling the sock from his mouth as his eyes darted all over Timothy's bruised face. "Holy shit." Michael gasped, jumping back when Timothy had tried to spit out a bloody ball of saliva at him.</p><p>"I'm telling my dad on you and your brother!" Timothy snarled, his eyes watery. "Your brother is fucking crazy! I'm going to make sure he goes to juvie!"</p><p>Before Michael could say anything back to that, Paul had emerged with the cat in his grip, the animal clearly struggling against the boy. "This is Cookie? Your cat that attacked my brother?" He questioned, walking over towards Timothy, holding Cookie up as if she was a trophy. Michael stared at the cat with widened eyes and looked back at Timothy as the boy began to panic, shrieking when Paul had strolled over towards the bucket of water. "I wonder if Cookie can swim." He had matter of factly said, before shoving the cat into the water, holding her down while Michael and Timothy both screamed out in shock. Michael ran over to Paul, grasping at his arm fearfully and tugging at it as Paul held Cookie down with both of his hands. </p><p>"Paul! Stop! You're going to kill her!" Michael cried out, watching as the water splashed onto the grass, the sight of the cat's eyes widening and her mouth opening wide in silent sounds of struggle. "STOP IT!" Michael shouted, which ultimately made Paul growl and aggressively shove Michael onto the ground with a wet hand. The ten year old hit his head hard from the strength of that push.</p><p>Timothy cried until he couldn't breathe, "Let her go!" He screamed out, tears blinding him as he tried to get out of the belt. Quickly, he sprung up to his knees and ran over towards Paul who was still drowning Cookie, the boy had gathered all the strength possible when he plummeted his foot into the side of Paul's head which made the fourteen year old immediately collapse onto the ground with a hard thud. Timothy had panted, rage flooding him as he kicked repeatedly at Paul's side and ribs, capturing a horrific glimpse of his dead cat which made him breathless in his lungs. "You son of a bitch! You fucking - I'll kill you!" </p><p>Paul rasped out a soft laugh, the sound muffled in the grass as he clutched at it. Timothy stomped him, before being roughly grabbed up by Michael and launched to the ground by the boy. "Stop it! Okay? Just stop!"</p><p>"You fuckers killed my cat! You killed my fucking cat!" Timothy sobbed, stumbling up on his feet again, but this time he was grabbed by a more firmer hand. Freezing from the sudden parental grip, he looked up at Jim McCartney and his two parents rushing over towards him as well. "Mom! Dad!" He cried out as he snatched from Jim, and ran to his shocked parents. </p><p>"Timothy! Oh my God, he's bleeding! Eric go and get the first aid!" His mother yelled, panic flooding her eyes as Timothy weeped into her chest, her eyes capturing the cat floating in the water. "Cookie!" She gasped, hand clasping her mouth in shock. </p><p>Jim rushed over to Paul, while Mary tended to a petrafied Michael, heaving the injured boy up onto his feet and patting at different spots of his body with worried eyes. "What happened Paul? <em>What did you do</em>? What did you do?" The man had asked, going hysteric when his son's eyes were emotionless, looking more so black than the hazel colors that were usually outcasted. "Paul! Answer me goddamnit!" Jim shook him, making Paul blink back into it, furrowing his eyebrows as he wondered why his father was raising his voice at him. </p><p>"Why are you yelling at me?" Paul despondently asked, making Jim blink his eyes at him in bewilderment. Mary stared over at their son with the same expression painted onto her face, Michael clutching onto her leg as he tried not to meet his brother's eyes. There was no way that he can look at Paul the same anymore after what happened, no fucking way.</p><p>3 years earlier -</p><p>"I don't know Mary." Jim sighed in frustration, hand on the ledge of the fireplace, his eyes staring at the nostalgic picture of Paul as a baby with his aunt and cousin. The picture itself says a lot, his cousin holding Paul in her arms with a big proud smile, around six years old. Paul looked at the camera with big curious eyes, not a trace of a single smile or amusement on his little face.</p><p>Jim shivered, and looked away from the photo, something churning in his stomach. "When someone gets him angry, it's not the normal reaction. He gets so mad, and he really harms other kids. There's an eager intent to <em>hurt</em> people, it's not good." He tried to explain to Mary, the woman was sitting on the sofa with a tissue in her shaky hand as she sobbed from the stress of everyone from Paul's school, telling her to send her child into some type of mental hospital.</p><p> The principal of the school Paul went to had called the parents earlier that day, telling them that their son had gotten into a physical dispute with another student in science class and Paul had burned him with one of the chemicals, then tried to force the student to drink the toxic chemical as well. Teachers went out of their way to call security, and several counselors stormed into the classroom to yank Paul away from the crying student. The counselors kept Paul after school, not letting the parents go and get him until half past six once they've got an actual explanation out of the boy. Paul was being dismissive, and defensive, genuinely wondering why he was getting into trouble. The counselor called him out on repeating, "I didn't know it was poisonous." Every single time someone confronted about how the student had to be sent to the hospital.</p><p>Mary croaked, lifting her head up and looking at her husband with teary eyes. "<em>Don't</em> Jim, he's just - please don't vilify him. Maybe he just needs to go through anger management, I think he just gets easily frustrated and he doesn't know how to control it." She had said, feeling as if Jim was slowly turning on their  son, and giving up on him - just like the rest of them. </p><p>Jim had let out another vexed sigh, turning to his emotional wife as he clenced his hands into frustrated fists. "Mary, I'm <em>not</em> vilifying him. When he was seven he fucking <em>stabbed</em> someone, and he wasn't even sorry. God Mary, I'm sorry to say it but he's- I think he needs help." </p><p>"Our son, does <em>not</em> need help. How dare you say something like that about him?"</p><p>Jim slammed his hand down on the ledge, lashing out. "How long are <em>you</em> going to keep enabling this behavior?" He spat, making Mary flinch and sob some more in her tissue. "Mary, I love him! I want the best for him, but we can't just act like he's not a troubled boy and this is all I'm saying!" He exclaimed, while staring at his crying wife with a glare of pain and disappointment of what they've created. "Now what if he sticks with this as he grows up and ends up really hurting somebody?" </p><p>Mary was the one to lash out now. "He's not going to hurt anyone Jim!" </p><p>"Mary he fucking burnt somebody at his school! I can't sit here, stare these parents in the eye and say that it wasn't his fault. I look at these kids, and they look like they've seen a ghost! All of them Mary! They should not be scared of our child!" </p><p>"Paul was scared of them once!" Mary had cried out, stomping her foot while Jim had just buried his face in his hand in agitation. "He's a scared child! You know how bad they treat him in school! He tells us everyday, crying and bruised! All he's doing is retaliating, and I do not agree with how he's doing it, but him having to get "help" should <em>not</em> be the case!" </p><p>"Mary. Are you hearing yourself right now? A child was sent to the hospital, because of <em>him</em>." Jim had countered, moving his face from his hand as he glared into Mary's eyes, the woman was smitten with denial. At the staircase, nearby the living room, Paul was silently sitting down on one of the steps with his arms folded over his knees which were brung up to his chest. With wide and hurt eyes, he had painfully listened in on his parents arguing with a held breath, and a trembling bottom lip. They've been progressively quarreling ever since they had picked him up from the school. Paul had noticed how hesitant his father had been towards him when they had gotten home, not even sparing a passing glance towards the boy as he carried a sleeping Michael up to his bedroom. Mary gave Paul a hug in which he returned fully, clutching him close to her body and exclaiming how worried she had been while they swayed together for a bit. </p><p>Jim had taken her away from him, patting his son's shoulder and gently telling him to go up to his room. Paul already had a hunch that something bad was going to happen, but he didn't expect to be ruthlessly slandered like this. </p><p>"I don't know what it's going to take for you to realize that something is wrong with him."</p><p>Paul parted his lips, intaking a labored breath, as he continued to cry softly. He didn't even know why his dad was talking about him like this. Like how the teachers do. It was tearing him apart like a pitbull would do a rag doll, and he was growing very emotional within each passing second. They thought he was crazy, a sickly ill individual, extremely wicked and vile. So maybe he should have not picked up the chemical, and grab the student by the neck, dashing an already fatal dose of the liquid down into his mouth while he struggled against him. That's what the kid gets for putting a kick me note on Paul's back when he wasn't looking. </p><p>It made Paul confused. Why was he getting so much shit for simply standing up for himself? It's not like he'd just hurt anyone unprovoked, or while they're caught off guard. Right?</p><p>-</p><p>#17  Winter. </p><p>Possessed with the an unswallowable amount of adrenaline, sweating from sprinting throughout the suburban neighborhood, Paul had shuddered from starved hunger when he came to a stop at the side of the house. Grasping underneath of the already cracked window, Paul had immediately pushed it up all the way to its limit and silently climbed into the bedroom of some little girl's room without any hesitation. Hopefully this is a good house, Paul was thirsting to get this shit over with already so the feeling could leave him alone. </p><p>Throwing his heavy duffel bag down onto the floor, and unintentionally rattling the six year old girl half awake in her little pink bed, she looked up at him sleepily and then parted her lips to question: "Who are you?" Her high pitched voice with a touch of rasp had made Paul go tense from the sudden awareness of his presence, causing the man to look at her with dark eyes that caused her to gasp a little bit. </p><p>"Go back to sleep." Paul had deeply said, not moving to look her in the eyes whilst the little girl was still staring at him. </p><p>Something in her gut told her that she should listen to him, so she did, however she stayed awake since she was a little terrified of this stranger being in her home. Using her instincts, she pulled the blankets over her head as if it would be her protector and turned to her side, facing the wall while trembling. Paul watched her for a little bit until she stilled up in the sheets before heading towards her bedroom door after picking up the duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulders. With something devilish controlling him and his self control, Paul was breathing extremely heavily as if something was weighing down his chest, and his hazel eyes were glazed over with the strength of the pure desire to put his hands on someone. </p><p>Not the little girl, and not the little boy whose room he almost passed by, the kid was sound asleep in his race car bed with the television still on. Putting any harm to kids, surprisingly, had been a line he had not passed and it was something that he felt necessary to not do so. Paul walked inside of the bedroom of the little boy and turned the volume up a little bit, not enough to wake him but to muffle any outside noise that may have the potiential to startle him awake. It was something humane, kind of caring in a way, despite his uncaring intentions. Paul glanced at the kid, skimming his eyes over him before he walked out of the child's bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him and continuing down the hall to the master bedroom. </p><p>Paul's hand had twitched in some weird form of excitement as he pushed the door opened, walking inside of the room and swiftly closing the door behind him, turning around to lock it until he zeroed his hearing in on the running shower, and the music playing. Paul had furrowed his eyebrows and released his hold of the still unlocked door, recognizing that tune as he began to move away from the bedroom door. </p><p>There was a sound of a male singing 'don't rain on my parade' by Barbara Streisand along with an Alexa in the bathroom that was playing the original song. Paul stalked over towards the cracked open door, and tried to level his impatience to just bust it open, murder this man brutally then leave as if nothing happened. It's like brushing his teeth. Before he needed to go to bed, it had to be done for the sake of him. As the song continued, growing louder the closer Paul got to the door, he closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of soap through his nose for a second to process himself. Opening the door to the bathroom, Paul had slowly unzipped his duffel bag and pulled out a long knife as the innocent naked male in the shower ran the soapy cloth down his arm, dancing a bit to the catchy tune.</p><p>Paul entered the bathroom menacingly, breathing fast with his tongue dipping through his lips, licking them hungrily as he snaked closer towards the man, dropping his duffel bag by the toilet. The man turned around from the thud of the bag on the floor, his eyes meeting the graceful lashes and the dark glare for a split second before he was being stabbed repeatedly until his legs gave out in mere seconds. Paul was basically in the shower, the water pouring on him as he thrusted the knife in and out of the screaming man, a crazed look in his eyes as he continued to attack the man. Chest, arm, collarbone, ribs, stomach, pelvis, groin, thigh and back getting the most of the damage. Paul made sure that the knife delved deep to the bone on each impact, blood spurting everywhere, on the wall and on his face, leaking out to the bathroom floor. </p><p>The little girl in the room clutched fearfully at her blankets, and shivered as the screams began to die down. Shakily, she moved her legs off of the bed, dragging her blanket along with teary eyes as she walked slowly down the hall to see what was happening. </p><p>Paul growled as he turned the limp, bleeding man around so that he straddled his backside, grasped at his hair and slit the knife across his throat with an intent to almost behead him. Paul shivered, letting the man's head drop against the shower floor as he slumped and tried to catch his breath, blood dripping down his face as he panted with widened eyes. The shower still running, soaking his all black clothes while he sat on top of the repulsive corpse, trying to gather his thoughts since he felt like he was in a warped timeline. After a couple of minutes, Paul had stood up and walked out of the shower, dripping wet. The song continuing to play on loop while he picked up the bag, and trudged out of the bathroom, leaving bloody shoe tracks. </p><p>Paul had took the shoes off when he got to the bedroom, and grabbed at the deceased father's sandals, putting them on quietly. There was some type of heat blooming in his chest, Paul felt like it was heartburn but it was a feeling of wanting to go cry about something. Probably about his parents. However, that was what bought him back here in the first place so what the hell? </p><p><em>Sniff</em>. "What did you do to my daddy?" Came a light voice, trembling bottom lip, as she looked at the tracks of blood. "Did you hurt my daddy?"</p><p>Paul stared at her, shaking, and then he looked over at the knife while mumbling: "I thought I told you to go back to sleep." He said softly, clenching his jaw as the girl began to cry, taking a few more steps towards the bathroom until Paul turned his head in her direction, glaring directly into her eyes as he snapped at her: "Don't fucking <em>look</em>. You're too young to see that, just go back in your room and go to fucking sleep before <em>I make you</em>."</p><p>The little girl nodded, and began to turn around while clutching her blanket, running away from the scene as she cried. Paul ran a hand down his face, continuing to fix the shoes onto his feet, tying the laces and thanking God that they were close to the same size. Paul grappled for his things, rushing out of the room and bounding into the little girl's room before the six year old could fully climb into her bed. Paul had looked over at her, squinting his eyes. "Tell anyone you seeing me? I'll come back here and hurt you too. Got it kid?" He questioned, not truly meaning it, but he needs this girl to keep her word. Or else, he'd have to break a rule of his.</p><p>"Okay m-mister," She stuttered through her tears. "I'm sorry." </p><p>"No, <em>I'm</em> sorry." Paul replied after a few seconds of registering that he was talking to a kid after killing her father. Paul became stoned face, heading over towards the window and sticking his leg out. "Say you saw some burglar come in here or some shit. Just don't mention me."</p><p>-</p><p>Paul eyed Todd, the man who was conversing with John inside of the shop. Figuring out that he may be looking weird to anyone else, Paul had opened up the door and walked inside of the shop, capturing John's attention. "Paul! Hi! Good afternoon!" He cutely waved, eyes lighting up in a way that Todd hasn't witnessed in all of his time being a customer at this shop. Paul nodded at him as he slowly walked into the shop, hands in his pockets and his eyes locked onto John in a way that made Todd annoyed from the look. "Todd this is Paul, he's a new customer and he likes the same tea that I like. Isn't that cute?" John had asked, raising his eyebrows as his beautiful brown colored eyes begged for an answer. </p><p>"Um, yeah that's nice. Nice to meet you Paul, I'm a friend of John's." Todd softly murmured, looking over at Paul who continued to eye-fuck John for a couple of seconds before retracing his gaze towards Todd. Paul had a specific glint in his face that made Todd uneasy, he felt something weird and incredibly dark coming off of the handsome individual. Clearly, Paul was not a person that Todd should fuck with, just from the way he narrowed his eyes at him as if Todd already crossed him in a bad way. </p><p>And then, Paul had started talking: "Nice to meet you Todd." The guy had a silk voice, smooth, naturally monotone and incredibly inviting. The exchange was brief since Paul looked back at John with expectant eyes, his hands sliding up the counter as he leaned his body against it, eyes darting across John's covered face longingly. "John," Paul had called out, the name gently rolling off his tongue in similiarity to a soft moan that caused John and Todd to stare at him with widened eyes. Paul kept his eyes on John's though as he continued: "How are you? Are you tired?" He questioned, his warm eyes melting John's heart. </p><p>"Oh well, I'm a little tired, but I'm fine today! Thank you for asking Paul." John cheerfully replied, making Todd look at him with furrowed eyebrows. To be frank, he felt extremely tired since it was hard for him to get any sleep since the news of poor Finn had broke. Stuart was the one that made it possible since Cynthia could not be able to be there for him at the moment, it was fine since John understood that she was a busy girl. Paul stared at him fondly, wanting to reach over and remove that damned mask from John's face so that he could caress his cheeks, feel his soft skin under his palms and just - <em>fuck</em>. Easy breaths Paul, easy breaths.</p><p>"I haven't seen you here before." </p><p>Paul sighed, boredly shifting his eyes over towards Todd, keeping his body and the direction of his head facing John. "You sure about that?" He asked, something unwelcoming, a total opposite of how he sounded before when he had greeted Todd. "Because I was here when you were staring at him through the window. Or did you forget?" </p><p>John's lips hard parted in shock, and his eyes widened even more from the sudden confrontation. To be frank, he barely even remembered that due to all the chaos that had unfolded afterwards. Taken back, blushing, and speechless as to what he should do when it comes to awkward things like this - John had tried to resolve the growing tension between Todd and his new friend/customer Paul by tapping on the register to ring an order up. "Paul um, do you want some ice tea? I can pay for it, on the house. You don't have to." He said with a gentle voice, glancing back and forth between Todd and Paul while the two stared at each other threateningly. </p><p>"John," Todd huffed, turning back to John when Paul rolled his eyes and stared elsewhere. "This guy's a jackass." He said which made the auburn haired man let out a surprised breath. Paul let had let out a silent laugh, eyeing Todd again but with a much more humor coated look on his face, it was as if Todd was entertaining him. "Don't pay for him, I know what type of guy he is."</p><p>"Todd-" John began, furrowing his eyebrows. "Stop it. What's wrong with you? Paul's a fun guy."</p><p>Paul wondered what shade of Todd's blood is. </p><p>"He's a smart ass." Todd replied in a whine, clicking his tongue. "Come on John, you can't entertain these types of people. I thought you'd know this." </p><p>"What does <em>that</em> supposed to mean?" John had questioned, crossing his arms as he narrowed his eyes at Todd who was immediately trying to retrace his steps, stammering amongst himself. "Paul did nothing wrong. You're just being a dick to him for no reason." </p><p>"Me? Being a dick?" </p><p>Paul had suddenly cleared his throat, "I'll see you tomorrow morning John." He said, making sure that he pulled off a fake hurt voice so that John would catch onto it. It'd be incredibly shocking to him if John did <em>not</em> notice it, and it'd even piss him off for a minor second. Fortunately enough, John blinked and then glared at Todd in disgust before moving away from the cashier to hurry after Paul, seeing that the man was already outside of the coffee shop. Todd stood by near the counter, very confused about what just unfolded and kind of hurt. Todd was never defended by John whenver some tough guy would come in the shop and bully him about what he was wearing or whatsoever. </p><p>"Damn." Todd had spat stressfully under his breath, already knowing that he was getting weird looks from different people inside of the shop from the glares that were being drilled into the back of his skull. "John, what does he have that I <em>don't</em>?" He murmured sadly, eyes going glossy while he stared at his crush rushing outside, in his work clothes, to capture a retreating Paul. </p><p>"Class!" </p><p>Todd turned to whomever said that, a mug on his face as he pulled his mask down: "Who said that?" </p><p>Meanwhile, Paul had smirked successfully when he felt fingers gently wrap around his wrist, soft breaths coming from behind him as he was tugged back a little. "Hey, hey, I'm so sorry about that." John had speedily apologized, meeting Paul's eyes when the younger man slowly turned around to look at him grimly. "I don't- he's kind of mean sometimes when it comes to me and other people." He had said, kind of saying what he was assuming but was not exactly sure of. Paul had stared at him with an expressionless face, he looked insanely serious and even more intimidating to the older man in this particular moment. John had gulped when his blank hazel eyes glanced down at John's fingers gripping his wrist, he immediately unlatched his grasp and stepped back with his hands now clasping behind his back. </p><p>Paul looked back up at John, "Is that your boyfriend?" He questioned, raising a curious eyebrow.</p><p>John's breath hitched, eyebrows furrowing as he quickly shook his head, denying the idea of going out with Todd. Especially now since Todd had shown his true colors back there. "No, no, no. I'm single! I don't have anyone right now. Todd just has this big crush on me, and he must've been jealous since I was -"</p><p>Paul chuckled, and moved his hand up to brush a fallen lock of hair from John's face, shifting it behind his ear as he spoke to him softly. "All I needed was a no, doll." </p><p>Shit.</p><p>Before John could even respond to that, too dazed from the feeling of Paul's fingers brushing against his ear and his upper jawline, there was the voice of Shelby unfortunately penetrating the tension between him and Paul. "John! Get cha ass back in here before I drag you back!" Shelby jokingly threatened, but she genuinely wanted John to come back to the shop. Paul dropped his hand away from John, staring numbly at the woman as John turned back to her to yell out: "I'll be back! Sorry!" Paul's eyes landed back onto John's when the man turned around to face him again. "Come back with me? Please? I really like your company. I won't let Todd bother you either, in fact, I'll ban him from coming back." </p><p>"Would you now? You don't have to do that." Paul had said, genuinely surprised from the statement. "That's not necessary John, I can just ignore him."</p><p>"Nope!" John chirped, pressing his index finger down on Paul's chest as he continued. "Shelby said that I can ban <em>anyone</em> who tries to agitate customers, including other customers." He said with something that cutely resembled pride in that little accomplishment, circling the tip of his index finger against Paul's chest. "So with that priviledge, I will ban Todd from <em>ever</em> entering the coffee shop, again. Okay?" John asked without actually expecting an answer. </p><p>"John." Paul sighed, disbelief flooding his eyes. "Are you sure?" </p><p>"Yup yup. Now come on <em>cutie</em>, let's go back before you get me fired." John had smugly said, grasping at the sleeve of Paul's shirt and pulling him forward as he walked back to the coffee shop. Paul eyed his hand, and then stared at the back of John's head.</p><p>Suddenly he felt nauseous. </p><p>What the hell is going on with his heart? Why is it beating so fast? Paul cursed mentally at himself, repeating 'that better be the anticipation of lust' because if it was something as problematic as him gaining some type of emotional attraction to John then he was fucked. </p><p>So, so, very: <em>fucked</em>. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John is the popular type of kid who was stuck in the middle. People could like him and then not like him. It was always something in between. His personalitly could reel anyone in, even the people with the darkest intentions.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>updating schedule seems pretty solid imo<br/>excuse the errors!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Team captain A, John Lennon. You take the stand." Coach Larry said, reaching into the bag to remove a big red dodge ball at John as the ten year old raced up towards him with a big bright smile on his face. "Team captain B, Alissa Grace. You take the stand." He spoke up again, removing another ball from the bag as the girl walked up to him, hand out to grab at the ball silently. Physical education was not her strong fit, and being popular made it even harder for her to avoid it since she was noticed by a lot of teachers nontheless. John on the other hand loved all kinds of physical acitivity, he was very competitive and sometimes it'd get him into some type of unknowing friend groups with people that had the same spirit as him.</p><p>"Please don't have us pick out who we want, I had to go to the principal for not picking some random dude. Said it was the start of bullying, it's so freaking dumb." Alissa pouted her lips, the dodge ball on her right hip and her hand being placed on her left one. "Also John always leaves me with the people that can't dodge. You <em>always</em> pick him as the team captain."</p><p>"Cry some more." John teasingly said, casually bouncing the ball as if it was a basketball.</p><p>"I wasn't talking to <em>you</em> Lefraud." Alissa snarled, slapping her hand on the ball as if it were a warning that she'd throw it at him if he ever continued. Coach Larry just looked on with one hand in his pocket, tired eyebags prominent, and a slumped figure as if he did not want to be there.</p><p>John had stuck to not responding to that and turned his back towards her instead, staring dilligently at his peers who'd immediately stopped doing what they were doing once his brown eyes were on them. "Okay I want - Eric, Jack and Elise." He had announced, smiling at his friends as they all high fived each other, laughing in excitement of being on the same team for the tenth time in a row. They all dominated in this game. "Can we name our team?" John had lightly asked, looking up at Coach Larry with an innocent look that Alissa wanted to bounce her ball off of. Coach Larry yawned and carelessly shrugged his shoulders, blinking tiredly.</p><p>"Whatever, John's team, line up or something and grab some balls from the rack." Coach Larry had said lazily, almost rolling his eyes when he heard one of the kids joke about the word balls. "Ha, ha, so funny. Grow up Jack." He called out which made Jack laugh aloud with his friends while clapping his hands. "Alissa go and pick out yours, the people that are left can be the bench or something? I don't know or care. Play kickball on the other side."</p><p>John had motioned his team towards the rack, all of them simultaneously sprinting over towards the balls to grab them. The auburn haired boy told them to grab the balls that were filled with the most air, it'd strike more powerfully if aimed correctly and with full force. The team's aim were incredibly efficent altogether, rising up to 85 percent if they all shot the ball together as one towards their target. "Make sure you make their team suffer, okay? Just like always and then I can all buy us some snacks at lunch. Deal?" He asked, looking around expectantly at his group of friends. Elise nodded her head, sighing dreamily at John and Eric had clapped his fist into his palm in anticipation. The other kids just had another round of high fives and little pep talks with their adorable high pitched voices.</p><p>Soon enough, the game of dodge ball had begun, and it was all going as planned for John's imagination. Alissa would bounce the ball up off of the floor, take a step back before crashing her foot into the ball once it was sprung up in mid air to send it flying across the gym to splatter Elise in the stomach, making the girl fly back against the matted wall with a pained 'oomf' as she plummeted onto the ground before busting out laughing. "Elise!" Eric and John shrieked, looking at the fallen girl in fright as he clutched onto the ball.</p><p>Seeing that Eric was caught off guard, Alissa's teammate, Sasha, had swung the ball with wicked strength towards Eric only for John to rush from his spot and shove Eric out of the way before the ball could hit him. Sasha shrieked, eyebrows furrowing. "Cheater!"</p><p>"Lefruad!" Alissa stomped her foot, "Larry! He's cheat-" The girl cut herself off with a surprised gasp as she dodged the loose ball John had thrown at her direction. "Oh you dirty <em>bitch</em>!"</p><p>Coach Larry sighed boredly, and cupped his hands over his mouth: "Watch your language Alissa!"</p><p>John pointed his finger at her mockingly, laughing aloud from the whiny frustration flustering her little face. "That's what you get!" He shouted through his endearing but mean laughs, before suddenly losing conciousness, and all feeling in his body after briefly seeing a big red ball swarming directly at his face - <em>full</em> speed. The blow sent his head flying back, whiplashing his neck, losing conciousness on impact as his body had hit the ground. Coach Larry's eyes widened, suddenly awake and alert when John had fallen limp onto the floor. The idea of being fired flashing through his head as he sprinted over towards the boy, aggressively shoving away the curious kids crowding around him.</p><p>"He's definitely dead." Said little Eric, his small hand covering his mouth in shock.</p><p>Soon enough the whole gym was crowding around Coach Larry and an unconcious John Lennon who was bleeding profusely from his nose, and mouth with little 'oohs' and 'aahs' that filled the mostly silent gym. "Fuck! Get the nurse! Hurry up!" Larry shouted, immediately taking his jacket off to press it against John's face as he pulled the boy up in his arms, panicking about both the kid and his job. Eric and Sasha had raced out of the gym to retrieve the nurse with concerned looks on their sweaty faces. "Who threw the ball that fucking hard!" He yelled making the little kids flinch and back away from how out of character Coach Larry had sounded, "Come on now. God fucking damn."</p><p>- "Hello? Yes this is Julia Lennon. What's going on?" Julia had questioned, turning the tv down which made Mimi look over at her in confusion before realizing that her sister was on the phone with someone. "<em>What</em>? John is in a fucking ambulance?" She gasped out, immediately standing up from the couch as her heartbeat began to speed up fearfully. "What the fuck happened to him?" Julia asked, more aggressively this time with rising anger of how her child could be hurt to the point where he had to go to the fucking hospital. Mimi had scooted up in her couch, her face screwed up into a genuinely concerned expression, boardering on frightened when Julia continued to pale up from the information given to her through the phone.</p><p>"Dodge ball? Who the <em>fuck</em> threw a ball at his face?" Julia spat, immediately rummaging around for her keys and purse. "I don't care if they're a child, I will beat a kid's ass if they hurt my baby."</p><p>Mimi stood up to grab her coat, wordlessly following her sister as the two of them began to rush towards the front door to see what was happening with their little John. This would be the first time John would end up in some type of situation where he'd go and visit the hospital for some school related injury. When John got into any fights, he wouldn't be hurt really bad, and he was popular beyond everyone else - there were a few other kids who weren't necessarily in love with his presence but someone going as far as actually hurting him really fucked up. Julia was speeding down the street, both of her hands gripping the wheel, her jaw clenched and something brewing in her eyes. Her child getting hurt was the last thing that she thought would happen, and this is definitely not going to become a pattern. Julia was not afraid of smacking some kid in the face, she didn't care how old, if they hurt John then they would have to deal with her too.</p><p>Meanwhile John was laid out in the ambulance, doctors tending to him and all. The boy had blinked his eyes opened once or twice, seeing nothing but blurryness as he tried his best to gather his surroundings. There was a bad headache purging on in his head, he had two black eyes, and a completely broken nose which made it terrible for him to breathe for a couple of seconds when he regained consciousness, a deep lasceration on the inside of his mouth, right up on his fucking lip. John couldn't even feel the pain, maybe it was because of the medication that was going up in his arm or something but everything just felt numb at the moment. He couldn't even remember what had happened to him. So with that being said, John had opened and closed his eyes for a little bit before whining out that he was not feeling good.</p><p>"It's okay son, we'll get you there soon. Just stay awake for us, alright?"</p><p>John breathed heavily through his mouth, his chest heaving up and down while his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tried to register what was said.</p><p>When they arrived at the hospital, John was rushed past his mother to a room on some type of gurney that they lifted his little body up in. Julia had gasped at the sight of her child looking so damaged and bruised, immediately fighting at the doctors so that she could go see him. "Let me see him! That's my fucking son! He needs me! Let me go!" Julia struggled, becoming breathless as she began to shove the doctors away with brute strength. "John! Baby I'm here! Mommy's here hun!" On the other hand, John closed his eyes again much to the doctor's orders but he had just felt so out of it at the moment, slowly falling back out of it as he was being rushed down the hall. The only thing he could do is just slip back into unconciousness for the rest of the time of him being in the building.</p><p>As assumed, John had to undergo some type of surgery on his nose, he needed stitches, and it was unsure of how long he'd be stuck with his black eyes. Julia was told that her son needed to stay out of the light, especially if it is a bright one and become homeschooled for at least four weeks or until his healing was inevitable. Coach Larry was indeed suspended without pay for his lack of responsibility towards his students. Plus the disastrous game of dodge ball had became exterminated in Quarry bank because of bullying issues and the unhealthy assertion of dominance that comes with it. The person that threw the ball was this bulky green haired kid named Luke, he had an imfamous crush on Alissa and he wanted to stick up for her by throwing the dodge ball at John with a brutal type of force since he was the all star of the kid's volleyball team. Luke had <em>surfed</em> that ball as if John's face was the floor, and it kind of was since the ball had bounced all the way across the gym afterwards. The green haired kid was suspended from school for a good five weeks after that.</p><p>Julia was willing to actually fight the kid, the parents, grandparents without any repercussions. Mimi was the one that had to calm her down in that principal's office. "Fuck you! You hurt him! I don't care how old you are, I will kick your fucking ass!" Julia shrieked, flailing her hands in the air as Mimi tried to grapple at her flying arms before she could really hurt somebody.</p><p>"Mrs Lennon, please get a hold of yourself!" The principal shouted, trying to make sure his voice was heard over the lady's angry and threatnening screams. Under his breath, he murmured exhaustedly, "God they do not pay me enough for this."</p><p>It was a week when John could finally be able to talk without having to succumb to much of any pain. Julia let him have his friends over since the ten year old had used an adorable method to try and capture his mother's attention, along with her permission to bring some company over despite his wound snot really healing up. Julia's heart had broke at the glimpse of her child pulling at her hand, a purplish bruise around his two eyes as he smiled adorably at her. "John! I can't let you come and bring your friends over! The doctor said that you should still be resting, it's only been a week since you were hit with that dodge ball!" Julia had said, drawing out her voice in a whine to jokkingly mock the way John did it when he had asked to bring people over.</p><p>"But I feel lonely." John pouted, bottom lip trembling as his brown eyes sparkled pleadingly.</p><p>Julia had locked eyes with him, and then gave in with a sigh: "Fine."</p><p>"Yay!"</p><p>-</p><p>"So I just looked up, and then boom! All I felt was something crash into my face it was crazy!" John had animatedly explained with a beam on his face, throwing both of his hands up in the air. "I thought I was asleep for a couple of minutes until I woke up and seen myself in the ambulance." He continued, looking around at Jack, Elise and Eric. "It's kind of funny."</p><p>"No way! I seriously thought you were dead!" Eric had gaped, staring at John in disbelief of him still being able to move around. "You were bleeding so much and you wasn't even crying."</p><p>"Not everyone cries when they're injured." Elise had said, rolling her eyes at Eric before looking back at John with a small blush on her face. "My mom bought you a get well card. It should be coming in the mail soon, and it comes with a lot of sweets so I think you'd like it Johnny." The little girl said, rubbing her hands together nervously as she awaited some type of positive verbal reaction from her auburn haired crush. John had only clapped his hands together in excitement after a couple of seconds of sitting in shock from the confession, launching himself from his spot towards Elise to hug her as a 'thank you' before ruffling her hair afterwards.</p><p>"You're like a little sister! Thank you so much El. It means a lot" John smiled at her, squeezing her cheeks as the girl's heart began to tear open on the inside from being sibling zoned. Eric had stared at her knowingly, waiting for the girl to throw her emotiolnal tantrum which was not too far behind since her face became flushed a frustrated red. Elise removed John's hand off of her face, her eyes dark with a blatantly enraged flare being unhinged inside of her.</p><p>"I was your little sister on Valentine's day too!" Elise suddenly shouted which caught everyone except Eric off guard, she was becoming even more angry and frustrated as John stared at her with genuinely confused wide eyes. "Little sister's don't give you a bouquet of fucking flowers with a card inside of it that says would you go out with me! Especially in the middle of the cafeteria with everyone watching!" With that she moved off of the bed, and stormed out of the room tearfully while leaving John in a train of thoughts. John had shifted to go and follow her, try to get some type of explanation out of him or something that's related to that, but Eric grasped at his arm firmly.</p><p>"I got her, you stay here, I'll talk to her." Eric said, moving off of the bed too, rushing out of John's bedroom to leave Jack and John alone. The two J's.</p><p>"I didn't know she liked me!" John had cried out when they made sure Eric and Elise were out of sight or earshot. Jack looked at him with raised eyebrows, some type of expression of disbelief following up with that already perplexed look on his face. "No really! I'm so dense. I really had no idea that she liked me and I feel so bad." He said, looking genuinely upset with himself.</p><p>"A lot of girls have a crush on you." Jack had murmured, looking at his hands. "I'm kind of surprised that you don't really know, you have so many secret admirers."</p><p>John blushed, a bit flattered. "Wow, I guess I'm not really caught up with things like crushes and stuff. I just want to have fun and make a lot of friends whenever I'm at school." He had explained, looking over at Jack as the boy continued to play with his hands, he was fidgeting and John noticed that he seemed very nervous to be here. Nervous or anxious. Probably both? John did not know what it was, he never seen Jack like this before, maybe a few times when they were alone but not all of the time. "Hey Jack? Are you okay? What's wrong?" He questioned softly, with a small furrow of his eyebrows as he turned his body towards Jack.</p><p>Jack looked up, staring at John with concerned eyes. "I was really worried about you. I couldn't sleep when my mom had told me that you were getting surgery." He confessed, his voice small and cheeks growing a little noticeably pink. "It should have been me that was hit by the ball, you didn't deserve it. Stupid fucking Luke." Jack had cursed, looking upset at the thought of Luke throwing that ball with an insane amount of force to give John a moderate concussion. John blinked at him before smiling at little, reaching over and patting Jack's hand lightly as in a way for him to not be upset with himself for what happened to John.</p><p>"It's okay Jack, it's not your fault at all. I'll be fine, I'll get through this."</p><p>Jack stared at John's hand, took in a deep breath, and then looked back up at John to meet the brown eyes gazing fondly at his own. "John, um- back to the crush thing by the way. It's not only girls that have a crush on you." He had said in a almost-whisper voice, but John heard it clearly though which made his eyes widen again, body going frigid.</p><p>"What?" John had asked him, feeling breathless. "What are you talking about?"</p><p>Jack sighed out at the kid's density, trembling a little from the rising fear but also from the sudden confidence as he leaned forward, and hesitatingly left a small kiss against John's parted lips. John's breath hitched lightly when their lips had touched, eyes fluttering, and his hands shooting upwards to do <em>something</em> but for some reason all he could do is freeze against the bed in pure shock. A boy was kissing him! Another boy was kissing his lips. Not only that, it was his first kiss as well, and he could not say that he wasn't missing the euphoric feeling of a boy's lips on his when Jack quietly pulled away. "You can hate me all you want, but I'd be really screwed up if I never had the chance to do that to you if something ever happened to us."</p><p>"Jack," John softly began once he came down from the shock that overwhelmed him, but Jack had quickly shut him up by gently clasping his hand over the other kid's mouth.</p><p>"Please, don't say anything. Okay? My parents would <em>kill</em> me. I just - I really liked you for years and I didn't know what the feeling was. I <em>still</em> don't but I had to do that." Jack had explained, looking as red as a potato. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out. Let's just act like this never happened."</p><p>John had tensed up and removed Jack's hand from his mouth, courage gathering as he told the boy softly: "No Jack, it's fine. I really - I didn't mind it. If anything, I'm really curious now." At that, Jack had became dilligently surprised from the reaction he had got. "That was my first kiss, and it was by a boy. It's interesting to me. If you want to - maybe we can both figure out the feelings you have, and it could possibly help me to if I ever get those feelings too."</p><p>Jack blinked his eyes, registering those words for a couple of seconds before nodding his head eagerly, relief washing over him as he slowly became excited. "Yeah! Yeah of course, let's help each other." He exclaimed, before getting closer to John with some type of plea in his eyes as he asked the boy, "Can I kiss your cheek now?"</p><p>John giggled, "You already kissed my lips. Now you want to go for the cheek?" He smiled at the sight of Jack blushing feverishly at the question. "Sure you can kiss my cheek Jack."</p><p>
  <em>- 13 years later.</em>
</p><p>"It's so <em>dead</em> today." John had whined through his mask, slumping against the counter as he watched as people walked by without giving any sorts of glance towards the coffee shop. "This is why I hate having afternoon shifts because there's no one coming in! It's so aggravating to just stand here and do nothing, especially when you don't have any fun coworkers that like to socialize with you. Ugh, it's just like kill me now, you know?" </p><p>"You shouldn't say that aloud." Paul gently replied, staring unreadably at John with his cheek in his palm as his upperbody leant against the counter. "There's a killer running around remember?"</p><p>John had gasped, and then nodded his head in realization after suddenly remembering. "Oh shit. I shouldn't of said that." He murmured, adorably bringing a hand up to his chin to stroke the invisble beard that he imagined was there. "If I end up killed tonight, or tomorrow, then that would be on me. How stupid of me! Ah!" John had playfully shrieked as he threw his hand sup to overdramatically tug at his hair, the action made Paul smile softly before he could even let himself actually react to the older's antics. "Pauuul," John had suddenly whined out, turning towards the other man to meet his hazel eyes. </p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"Tell me about yourself." John had ordered, "I've been doing most of the talking." </p><p>Paul blinked, and shook his head as he dropped his gaze down to the top of the counter shyly. "There's nothing about that's just as important as being hit with a dodge ball." He admitted with a light snicker that made John flush and raise a finger up to jokingly scold the younger about how he was seriously injured when the dodge ball struck his face. Before John could even begin though, Paul had cut him off with a tenderness in his voice as he began to shed light to a couple of things about himself, ones that would make him seem normal to John. "I used to draw things, like characters and comics or whatever. It's kind of unimportant since it never really meant anything, but um - it helped a lot for me as a kid because I was going through a lot of shit." </p><p>"You draw comics?" John's eyes lit up gorgeously, and Paul just had to choose this very second to look up towards the beautiful gaze, paling up immediately from the genuinely curious look in John's brown eyes. <em>Fuck</em>. The older closed in on Paul, causing the other to awkwardly move away from the counter as heat rose up his neck and into his cheeks which made him blush heavenly, his heart speeding up expeditiously. "That's so cool." He drew out before an idea became planted into his head. "Can you draw something for me?"</p><p>Paul frowned at that, slowly faltering into the pit of being even more flustered and annoyed from the disgustingly warm feeling John was giving him. "No, I said I used to draw. I don't do it anymore." </p><p>John was becoming petulant, making literal yowling noises. "Please? I'll pay you if it's too much to do at the moment. It's for this art class, and you don't even have to do much!" He begged, making Paul feel a lot of unfamiliar things that he did not know what to do with. "Wait, wait. We can work on it together! I'll give you my number, see? Where's your phone?" </p><p>"I didn't even say yes." Paul had mumbled stubbornly, but still - he was reaching into his back  pocket to grasp at his phone nontheless. "And if I don't have to do much then why is there a need for me to do anything in the first place?" </p><p>John giggled, and reached over to slyly pull Paul's phone out of his hand. "Because it involves you."</p><p>Paul felt as if he choked on air, his face becoming more red from the comment. "What does that supposed to mean?" He questioned, watching as John purposely ignored him and twirled around in excitement while jotting his contact information down into Paul's phone. </p><p>••</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ellooo i coughed this chapter out ik ik<br/>excuse the errors</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Note to self, never ever, steal any paintbrushes from Mister Kyle." George had mumbled tiredly under his breath, paint all over his face and clothes. The boy was sent to detention for doing artwork in the middle of an empty classroom that shouldn't be occupied with students, he could not help it though. George would always be caught in either the music room - practicing instruments for him to play in the future if art did not work out and spending time in the art room - doing artwork. All of them without even having an actual class in those rooms, which was kind of illegal in school and it would send him directly into ISS or detention. What George did was take the paintbrushes form the cup, and stick them in the pocket of his backpack to take home for himself but unfortunately he was caught up. Stupid school advisors. </p><p>George opened the door, stepping inside of the room and glancing around with annoyed eyes. The natural scowl on his face began to grow when he met the presence of his history teacher who was sitting with earphones on, a wide book about world studies all perched up in his hand, when George's aura became noticeable, the teacher looked up. "George Harrison, what a rare occurence." He chuckled softly, shaking his head in disapproval which made the kid want to ball his fist up and punch the teacher square in his face. "You can go ahead and take a seat. Don't sit anywhere near McCartney, I want you sitting two desks away from him." </p><p>George blinked at him in subtle confusion, and then glanced over at said child. Paul was soundlessly asleep, his head buried in the fold of his arms, back rising and falling softly as he slept against the desk. George thought the boy looked completely harmless, and he wasn't keen on anyone telling him where to sit. "Why do I have to sit away from him?" George asked, looking back at the history teacher. "What is he going to do if I sit next to him? Wake up and bite me?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>George scoffed, and crossed his arms. "Oh screw off, I can sit wherever I want." He stubbornly said before heading over towards the desk Paul had sat in, grasping at a nearby chair and sitting down on it with a purpose to make sure the teacher knew he did not care. To make sure his point was surely coming across, George had dragged his desk closer towards Paul's so that they'd be sitting side by side with each other. The sounds of the chair and desk scraping against the floor caused the raven haired boy to twitch, making the teacher's eyes widen in a sudden splash of fear of the idea of Paul waking up due to the actions of another student. What if he's grumpy? What if he gets <em>mad</em>? Oh shit! The teacher looked around to make sure the staff had took away all of the sharp objects or objects that could be potentially dangerous. </p><p>George watched as the teacher had his silent crisis, shaking his head at him with furrowed eyebrows. "What is up with everyone in this building nowadays?" He asked lightly to himself, lifting his hand up to his cheek so that he could rest his cheek against his palm. "So weird."  </p><p>"Beats me." George tensed at the tired voice coming from next to him, and then he somewhat relaxed when Paul began to slowly lift his head up, blinking slowly, his hazel colored eyes searching the wall for a little bit as he tried to wake up. While George relaxed, the teacher found himself scurrying out of the room, getting ready to call some backup before anything horrendously bad could transpire between the two kids. "And there he goes, <em>whoosh</em>, gone." Paul had blandly said, waving his hand about as the teacher's running footsteps and panicked voice could be distantly heard from down the hall. </p><p>"Oh shit." George muttered, eyes wide and flashing with curiosity. "Why'd he run out like that?" </p><p>Paul had frowned at the innocent question and grumbled, "Because he thinks I'm crazy. Everyone does for some reason." </p><p>George had sat back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest and his head beginning to tilt in even more curiosity. "Wait a minute - you.. OH!" Harrison had jumped from the sudden realization, pointing his finger at Paul who had just looked at it, and then back up at George's face with an expression of amusement clouding his face. "You're the kid that stepped on Henry's hand on the monkey bars yesterday! He broke his leg after that, I remember everyone was talking about it! Oh and you're the same kid that stabbed Brady a couple of years ago! Right?"</p><p>"Yeah." Paul said, staring at George with a small smile. "That Henry thing was because he tore up the project I made for science class. Son of a bitch thought I was going to let it go, fuck that." </p><p>"Oh that's <em>badass</em>. You're so cool! I mean you're kind of scary for breaking his leg and stabbing a kid, but you stick up for yourself too. If you did it unprovoked then yeah - I'd probably would run away from you." George admitted, his eyes sparkling with earnest which made Paul feel a little warm inside. "I look up to people like you."</p><p>"Really?" Paul asked, blushing a bit. "You don't think I'm crazy?" </p><p>"For defending yourself? No, of course not. The teachers here don't care that someone is getting harassed but they're quick to act once you retaliate. You're fine in my book."</p><p>Paul looked away from him, distractedly scratching at his nose to make it seem as if he was itching something to hide the smile growing on his face. "Thanks, I really needed to hear that." He said softly, something near to affection fluttering inside of him when George ruffled his hair.</p><p>"My name is George by the way, George Harrison."  </p><p>Paul was quiet for a couple of seconds, before telling the younger man his own name: "It's Paul." </p><p>"What's Paul?"</p><p>Paul hesitated, becoming nervous. "No, <em>my</em> name is Paul." </p><p>---</p><p>"Fuck," George grunted tiredly. Paul looked at him enterained, banana sloshing around in his mouth as  he chewed on the food. George sat still on the branch, trembling from the exertion and gripping it while glancing down at the far-away ground. "If I fall would you catch me?" He asked while staring at the older boy with big and fearful eyes, already hearing the sounds of the branch beginning to snap from the excessive movement of his body. </p><p>"Of course I'll catch you, we're friends. Aren't we?" Paul questioned, mouthful of banana and a small smile on his face. "All you've got to do is scoot over towards me. If the branch begins to break, I'll catch you. I won't let you get hurt." </p><p>"I want to get down." George murmured, eyeing Paul helplessly as he continued to sit still on the branch, trembling and afraid of falling. Paul threw the banana carelessly, scooting closer towards George which made the branch heave a little, sounds of something snapping inside of the tree. With his eyes following a sudden crack flowing through the branch, George had gasped out and cried aloud in a small scream once a big snap had resonated throughout the empty field. Paul launched himself towards George, using the leverage of what was left of the now fallen branch, quickly grasping at the front of the boy’s shirt while reaching up towards a strong twig to hold onto to keep himself upright as he clutched onto the flailing younger boy.  </p><p>George was panting, hyperventilating at the feeling of being suspended in mid fucking air, only thing keeping him from falling was the grip of the older boy holding onto his shirt. "Paul! Paul! Help me! Please!" He screamed, hearing the fabric of his shirt begin to rip as he flailed his arms around, grappling for Paul with teary eyes. Paul stared at him, something blank in his expression that was beginning to scare George to fucking death. George was either seeing things due to the panic that was running through his mind or Paul had just looked so fucking <em>lifeless </em>in this moment, like he was some doll who was just frozen in stance and George was losing his fucking mind. "Paul? Paul! <em>Help</em> me!" </p><p>Paul stared at George, his fist on his shirt beginning to loosen bit by bit, and suddenly he felt like he wasn't even inside of his own body. There was this pulling sensation of just to let go of his friend and watch him fall, possibly breaking his neck, or something that involved a <em>gruesome</em> injury from this height. Fortunately, Paul had pushed himself back into his body, controlling his mind and the hazel of his eyes began to file back into focus - </p><p>George looked up to him, as a person and as a friend, right at this second as his savior. Paul wants to make sure that George was never to be hurt, scared or terrified at all. This was the only person around that time that didn't find his actions crazy, so what would be his reason to let him go and possibly kill him? Paul recoiled at the thought of killing George, the thought of killing people never really debuted in his head around that time. There was no reason why it should be in his brain, right? Paul had clenched his jaw, set his foot against the branch, and summoned up all of his strength to throw the younger boy into the air so that he regathered him properly. </p><p>George let out a squeak when Paul had yanked him up, flying in the air for a second which made him scream and close his eyes tightly, thinking that this was the end. Soon enough the older boy had firmly braced his arm around his torso and pulled him close to his chest. The both of them flew back against the tree trunk from the sudden impact of their bodies crashing into each other, George's hands grappled onto Paul immediately and buried his face into the crook of the boy's neck while Paul held him close as he tried to capture his breath. "Careful, careful." Paul muttered as George cried softly, running his hand up and down his friend's backside in fluid circles to calm the trembling boy down. "I told you that I wouldn't let you get hurt." </p><p>"I want to get down, please, <em>please</em>." </p><p>"Alright, just hold onto me, I got you." Paul had softly said, noticing the way George's grip tightened fearfully around him. "I'm sorry that I got you into this mess Geo." </p><p>When the two of them safely got down from the tree, Paul had walked over towards the dead branch and kicked at it as if it tried to kill George on purpose. "Stupid fucking branch, you almost killed little Georgie. I oughta start a forrest fire because of you." </p><p>"Paul." </p><p>Paul kicked at the branch again, staring at it for a little before turning his head over towards George with raised eyebrows, the younger boy still induced into hot tears as he pulled down at the hem of his shirt. "What's wrong George?" The raven haired kid had asked him, tilting his head to the side as he blinked his eyes.</p><p>"I peed on myself, I'm sorry, but - can you take me home so I can change?" George asked, his bottom lip trembling and his face red from embrassment. "My shirt is torn up too." </p><p>"My house isn't too far away, you can borrow my clothes. I think we're the same size. Plus it's my fault that you peed on yourself anyway." Paul had said, shrugging his shoulders and tilting his head over towards the empty road on the other side of the area. "Come on, let's go. There's no need to be embarassed, I was scared too." George sniffed, and nodded at him, running the back of his arm over his eyes while he stifly walked over towards his best friend. Paul had threw his arm around George's shoulder, pulling him close towards him, while the two of them walked over towards the road to follow it back into the busy town of Liverpool. </p><p>-</p><p>"I don't think I'm going back to school in a couple of weeks." Paul had softly murmured, catching the stress ball in his left hand after throwing it up in the air for the eightieth time. George looked up at him from doing his homework at his little desk, and furrowed his thick eyebrows at him as in a silent question of 'why?' but Paul had already answered it for him. "The teachers called my parents and they said that the board of education wants to put me in some type of fucking alternative school. Like in a school for bad people and shit." </p><p>"You're not a bad person Paul." </p><p>Paul threw the ball in the air again, huffing as he narrowed his eyes at the ceiling. "They know that, but they don't care. You know what's even crazier is that all of my bullies are getting special treatment because I put them in their place." He explained, catching the ball and squeezing it violently. "They think just because I'm smaller than them and that I supposedly look like a girl, they think that it's okay for me to be pushed around. So when I do something back they're the ones that need therapy? Get the fuck out of here." Paul had spat out in frustration, throwing the ball at the wall of his bedroom now which caused a hard thud to resound across the room. </p><p>George huffed, throwing his books to the side to stand up and walk over towards his best friend, sitting down at the side of the bed with his body turned to right so that he was facing Paul. "I know it's upsetting Paul, but you can't let it get to you like this. It's their fault that they want to be selfish towards you. Maybe going to a different school is good since you'll be surrounded by people that may want to help you." </p><p>"Help me with what?" Paul asked, his voice sharp and his eyes narrowing at George accusingly. "What do I possibly need help with? Do you think I need help?"</p><p>Realizing what he said, George immediately backpedaled and placed his hand on the older's arm, giving it a squeeze. "No, I mean - if you feel like you're being picked on then maybe people would actually pay attention to you! That's what I mean by help. What did you think I mean?"</p><p>Paul's expression softened, and he became somewhat relaxed, or something closely related to being relaxed. "Right, sorry for getting defensive. Things have been getting weird between me and my parents, mostly my dad. I think he's becoming like the others." He mumbled, throwing the ball into the air once again as he continued. "I bet he thinks that I'm crazy just like a lot of other people do. My own father, can't you believe?"</p><p>George could tell his friend was incredibly hurt, and all he could do was just run his fingers through Paul's hair while nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. There was a failing attempt of him trying to miniscule the situation so that it wouldn't plague Paul's mind as much as it was. "I'm sure at the end of the day, it doesn't really matter. We're all crazy in our own way, so why only take his word for it?" The younger boy questioned, meeting Paul's eyes for a couple of seconds before the older had turned onto his side, the ball that he threw up in the air plopping down lifelessly beside him as he curled up into a fetal position. So George figured out that maybe his way of words weren't the exact best. </p><p>"That's my dad George." Paul bluntly stated, exhaling and closing his eyes. "And they think I'm mentally ill. Like psych ward ill."</p><p>George had blinked and cooed out a neutral sounding: "Oh." </p><p>-</p><p>"George look." Paul smiled, setting down his pencil on the corner of his desk and holding up a drawing that he did. "I'm still practicing a bit on it, but I'm sure you could put some color in this. Right?" As he said this, he felt some type of annoyance that the counselors had literally forced George to sit at least three desks away from him since Paul was holding a sharpened pencil in his left hand. The boys hated how they treated Paul like some dangerous animal that would bite somebody unprovoked, and the older of the two even told the staff that his feelings were hurt because of this. However, the school simply could not take another complaint from a parent as to why their child was sent to the hospital. </p><p>"Of course! I wish I could see it better though. I can barely get a glimpse at the eyes." George had said, glancing at the security guard who stood still by the door. Right now the boys were situated in a room specifically made for Paul during his courses, no other child in the room, with not as much sharp objects than what was usually stored in a classroom. George and Paul thought it was bullshit, but there was nothing that could be done with that since the teachers and staff were absolutely terrified of the actions McCartney could do. </p><p><em>Fuck it</em>. Paul stood up, walking over towards George which made the guard move over to him at the same time, but Paul was much faster as he leant against the desk to make sure George got a better look. Suddenly his arm was being grabbed by the guard, and he was being pulled firmly towards his own desk. "Come on now son, you know the rules. Get away from Harrison or we'll have to call the principal again, and he warned that you wouldn't be allowed to see your friend if you disobey."</p><p>"That's not even fair! I didn't do anything! I'm just trying to show him something! Let me go!" Paul shouted, his eyes widening from the firm grip on his arm, the rush of something had drowned him and he began to twist around relentlessly. </p><p>George grasped at Paul's other arm, tugging on it as he complained too. "Yeah let him go you fucking weirdo! He didn't even do anything!"</p><p>"Stop struggling against me you crazy kid! You can't be next to him!" </p><p>Paul turned, his body whisking around so that he was facing the guard for a brief second as he kneed the guard in the privates which had made the man sink to the ground while holding onto his crotch. George had gasped, his brown eyes widening in substantial shock at what Paul had just done. No one had ever assualted a security guard or just an adult of a school unless they were a menace with no caution of the consequences that could come up afterwards. "Paul! Woah! You should run before you get into really big trouble." George had exclaimed, tugging at Paul's arm as the boy stared down at the sunken security guard. </p><p>"Don't you <em>ever</em> try to separate me from George again." Paul spat out with gritted teeth, a mean glare that George could not seem to recognize for the life of him. Paul looked uncomfortably scary, his intent of getting his point cross was coming off mildly possessive, and George wasn't sure if he should barge in or not. Then again - he had a feeling that he was the only one Paul could trust in a way, and George trusted him. So if he did shake Paul back to normalcy, try to calm him down before the boy did anything further into the unbelievably bold and stupid range, then it'd be a clear pathway of proving that Paul was not going to harm him when he's in this explosive anger. So George had abruptly stood up from his chair, brung his arms around Paul as he tried to hold him back when Paul had brought the sole of his shoe against the guard's face.  </p><p>"Stop it! Calm down!" George had yelped, hugging at the older's torso as he tried to pull him back. </p><p>Paul exhaled, eyebrows furrowed, not trying to fight his friend as he glared down at the incapacitated guard who took a foot to the tendon and a blow to the balls. "Sorry," He muttered under his breath, one of the few times he'd do that. Apologize for his actions. However it was bittersweet since it was not towards the security guard, mainly over towards George for spooking him and to have him launch himself towards Paul to stop his impulsive rage quit. </p><p>"Paul?" George called out softly, blinking in bewilderment from the sudden apology, loosening his grip on the older so that he could lean to the side to get a better look at his friend. </p><p>Herd of footsteps transpired before Paul could even respond, and then: "Harrison! Get away from McCartney!" It was a booming voice, George and Paul whirled around to see an actual fucking police officer. Who stood next to him was the blasted history teacher from before, and two counselors along with the principal. Paul felt a knot of fear tie up in his throat from the obviously hectic scene, and George had just went back to clutching onto his best friend protectively while verbally refusing to release Paul. </p><p>- "No, no, <em>no</em>. Do not argue with me on this George, he's a very bad kid. I don't want your school record looking even worse by hanging out with a boy that did terrible things to other students! Are we forgetting how he stabbed a child when he was eight? That was big talk around the town, and he drowned someone's cat. Assualted a security guard, what else hun?" George's father had glanced at his wife who was wiping the mess of food off of the corner his older brother's mouth before letting him go back outside and play with his friends. </p><p>"Forced a kid to drink some chemicals in science class." She added bluntly, shaking her head in disgust at the fact that it happened. "Poor kid had to get his stomach pumped, and he couldnt eat for the last couple of days. Luckily he survived." </p><p>George flinched, playing anxiously with his hands. "Paul is a good kid! Despite getting into a lot of fights he has good grades and he's helped me a lot. It's just that he has really bad anger issues because of getting bullied all of the time. <em>Please</em>, just let me bring him over for dinner." </p><p> "No." The parents said in unison, and then Louise Harrison had scoffed as she put her hands on her hips. "Anger issues do not lead to you almost killing your peers. I <em>don't</em> care, that's not how it works. I know he may seem like a good kid to you, that's only because you like him and he manipulates you. I know kids like him, they're all jocks and abusers when they grow up." </p><p>Harold held up his hand and waved it vigorously for her to stop talking, face seeming a little cross as he realized that his wife may be projecting a little bit once he caught the width of his son's words. "My cousin - he had bad anger problems and he tried to stab someone with a broken wine glass so - you know lets um.. move on from that." </p><p>Louise blinked, and then she shrugged her shoulders while throwing her hands up in defense. "Hey! You know what? It's whatever. But If I see that child in my house I'm calling the police on him. I don't care how old he is, I don't even want George to be friends with him in the first place, but hey, fuck it." The woman had passive aggressively stated, shaking her head again as she began to leave her youngest child's bedroom just to leave George with his father. Sometimes she felt as if she could never get into that kid's head and try to talk some sense into him, maybe his fatheer could hopefully do somewhat of a better job. If not then, she'd pray. </p><p>George grew frustrated, "What is wrong with you guys? You're not even trying to hear me out! Hear him out! Paul is very misunderstood, he's really a nice kid! People just love setting him off."</p><p>"Ease yourself." Harold had calmly said, hinting to George that he should take a deep breath and calm the hell down before the conversation ends up going nowhere. "Listen, I know that Paul is your best friend. You talk about him all of the time nowadays, and I'm slowly beginning to think you have a crush on the bloke." He admitted, feeling relief that he got that off of his chest despite his son blushing, and immediately becoming flustered from the comment. Before George could argue against that, Harold continued. "However, you need to look at the bigger picture son. Know who you're dealing with before you go so far with them, they'll be no returning from that." </p><p>George was quiet, his lips pressed together and his hands moving up to his head so that he could run his fingers against his scalp to potientionally pull at his hair from the piling thoughts that surfaced inside of his head. Fuck. No one was giving Paul a chance, and it was slowly making George think: what if they're right? What if Paul really is a dangerous kid with lots of charm? God what the <em>fuck</em> is he going to do? He and Paul grew closer, it's been a long time since he became close with a best friend like this. Paul was just - he is just such a pleasure to be around, and he makes George feel like there's no limit to anything when you're being scourged for your appearance. Paul had a soft appearance that would make boys want to punch him just to do it, lovely eyes, long eyelashes and pretty plump lips along with the softest skin that George would find himself distractedly touching whenever they were doing some drawing work together. </p><p>Paul wouldn't mind it, he'd just keep drawing with a small smile on his face from the soft and curious touches. It's better than punches to the cheek. </p><p>George couldn't unfriend Paul, but he needs to find a reason to do so since his parents were relentlessly on his fucking ass about it. So the next day at school, George had skipped his first period class and rushed upstairs to Paul's own classroom. Hopefully he'd be here today. This could be the only chance where George would tell him that 'maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore' and leave it at that. What could Paul do? Say no? </p><p>God this was going to be hard. </p><p>George got teary eyed when he approached the door, opening it and peeking in to see a police officer along with that damned principal. George grew confused, watching as Paul looked up from his given assignment with wide hazel eyes, and furrowed eyebrows while he formed his lips to ask what was going on now. George looked at the officer too as he took off his hat somberly - <em>took off his hat</em> - wait a fucking minute. "Paul, I'm so sorry to say this. Your parents were coming to pick you up early for a dentist appointment, and there was this <em>fatal</em> collision." </p><p>Oh no.</p><p>No. No. NO. </p><p>George froze by the door, now having it opened wide, not caring if he were spotted by the adults. The thoughts of unfriending Paul had completely vanished when the next few words had came out of the officers mouth: "<em>Both</em> of your parents died at the scene. I'm so sorry."</p><p>Paul paled, going absolutely rigid at the news, and the moisture of his soft skin began to stifle a coat of sharp coldness to wash over his arms, neck, face. "You're a fucking <em>liar</em>." Paul had grumbled, gripping the corners of the desk as he snarled at the police officer in disbelief. "You're just trying to rile me up! That's not true! You're a fucking LIAR!" Paul had cried out, immediately launching himself towards the officer before anyone could even move to grapple at him. George had clasped his hand over his mouth, nausea causing him to swiftly turn around and run towards the boy's bathroom so that he could vomit from the immediate shock that had drowned him. </p><p>--- </p><p>"That's why you're an orphan!" Spat a disheveled David, heaving and angry since Paul punched him in the face for skipping in front of George in the lunch line. The teenager had slammed his hands down onto the table, which caused George to exhale in annoyance. "Shouldn't you be in another school?" He questioned when Paul had surprisingly ignored him, eating his food silently. "When we graduate next week, you won't be in the line. Imagine your diploma being sent to you. Who's going to attend it anyway since your parents are dead!"</p><p>Paul continued to eat his food, with the help of George hand being placed proctectively on his thigh. Instead of Paul taking action, George turned to David and growled out: "Leave him <em>alone.</em> Imagine stooping so low over a fucking lunch line, like you said - we're graduating next week. So grow the fuck up and get out of our faces before I shove this tray down your fucking throat." </p><p>"You won't do shit." </p><p>Paul glanced at George, swallowed his food, and then looked at David. "I'll take the drawstrings of the sweatshirt you're wearing and sew it into your mouth so that you can shut the fuck up." He had said with a deepned voice, narrowing his eyes at David in a glare. "I'll make a start by cutting an opening into your mouth with this knife, I'll do it right now if you don't get the fuck away from me in the next five seconds." </p><p>"You're so fucking crazy." David had muttered in absolute disbelief, backing away from the table while Paul's eyes had followed him until the man had finally moved away from his field of vision.</p><p>George squeezed Paul's thigh, making the older elicit a high gasp, smacking at a laughing George's arm as his hands retreated. "You handled that well, if we were kids again then I'm sure you'd beat him to a pulp." He had laughed out, eyes twinkling as Paul rolled his eyes playfully at the statement. "But holy hell, we really graduate from here next week. I'm really shocked that they gave you another chance to stay here! Should I take the credit for toning you down?"</p><p>"You shall." Paul replied, his response a bit short, but there was a cute smile on his face that reassured the younger that Paul was in a good mood despite the confrontation from David. George loved how much his best friend matured over the years, Paul had always been much more of the quiet and observant friend at some moments, in fighting instances he really grew up from that. Handling his temperment well. Or so he thought. </p><p><em>Or so he thought</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Paul stuck a forkful of salad into his mouth, his yearning eyes following a man who was conversing with his friend - someone - outside of the food place he stopped by, the man was extremely handsome and around his early thirties. Paul had licked his lips, feeling a tremor of excitement rush through him when it was clear that the man was beginning to come towards the restaurant in which he occupied at the moment. Seems like a good fit, Paul could easily carry him around whenever what was done was done. Sometimes he'd have to mentally weigh out his victims since they'd lose all sense of carrying their own weight when they're dead and gone. It's risky to pick someone more sturdier than him, but Paul's up to having sex with this man before he makes any other move. </p><p>As the raven haired man watched the older man move, he could see the muscles underneath his jacket, the firmness of his jawline - there's a chance that he might have to lay this one off.</p><p>Finn slipping away from his grip was <em>almost</em> a surprise to him, the guy had looked musclar but Finn had a small frame more so. Paul just thought that the poor man was slippery and he almost got lucky, it could've really turned out bad for the both of them if Paul did not retrieve him fast enough. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, causing his free arm to automatically reach out and grasp at cup of tea to reground himself while the other had dug the fork into the tasty salad. </p><p>Maybe - Paul could catch him off guard? With this man, Paul mentally opted to being the one that has his legs spread, being fucked into the matress since it's been awhile. Then it would be a little similiar to Doug, and Paul does not like similiarity. He's very creative. Paul watched as the man entered the restaurant, gazing dreamily as the big guy fixed his hair while he stood majestically by the front entrance, waiting to be greeted by a worker that could direct him to an opened table. Paul had looked at the salad, a small smile on his face while he pulled up his mask and gathered himself so that he could walk up to his 24th potiential victim, greet him with his natural flirtatiousness, then take him home later on to suddenly cut his life short. </p><p>Before he could stand up though, there was a sudden vibration rattling his phone almost out of his pocket. Paul's breath had hitched, blinking and furrowing his eyebrows in rising frustration while he reached into his pocket to grasp at his rattling phone. Much to his annoyance, the victim was already led to the other table in an area of the restaurant where Paul could no longer see him. So possibly the back, if he just followed them then that'd be extremely weird, eyes would be on him if he had just sweet talked the man into following him home afterwards. </p><p><em>Fuck</em>. </p><p>Paul threw his money on the table, glancing at his phone to see who the caller ID was before growing even more annoyed as he answered the phone, whisking the door to the restaurant open. "What is it Michael? What do you <em>want</em>?" He spat out in frustration, chest flooding with unsettling heat that meant trouble for anyone whoever wanted to get on Paul's bad side right at this second. The idea of his brother calling over something that could possibly equate to stupidness in Paul's eyes, and stripping away the obnoxious calling of some unfilled satisfaction of having someone at their most vulnerable, also witnessing their last few seconds alive - made Paul completely upset. </p><p>Michael stilled in the seat of his car, capturing his breath as he forced out: "I scheduled an appointment for you. A therapist appointment. Listen, don't be upset but - I told this to you before by text and you never replied to me." </p><p>"Because, what for? Therapy is stupid. I never needed to go in the first place." </p><p>Michael had scoffed, "And that's the problem Paul. Denying that you need therapy is what's going to make you worse." He explained, trying to keep a neutral, monotone voice so that he wouldn't tip Paul further to the edge. Michael was not particularly sure on whether or not he should be cautious on getting Paul angry these days, they've been distant from each other for a long time for Michael to know whether agitating Paul is a big deal. Paul gripped his phone tightly, walking silently, taking long strides towards the parking lot so that he could get to his car. "I don't even know what's going on with you half of the time."</p><p>"Exactly." Paul had said, "So what gives you the impression that I need to go back? I've been doing fine." He argued with an edge to his voice, fuck he was <em>so</em> annoyed. Escaped fucking prey, gone, no longer his to put an end to. Everything was too risky for him to go back and get the man, it was really pissing him off to a point where he had to force himself to settle down. </p><p>"I just worry about you sometimes, and it doesn't help that there's a killer out here."</p><p>"What does that have to do with me?" Paul quipped uneasily, opening the door to his car before settling in and slamming his door closed. Before Michael could make out his explanation, Paul had erupted almost violently: "Stop fucking calling me, and texting me over something stupid as fuck. You can't make choices for me, I'm a grown man and I can do whatever the <em>fuck</em> I want."</p><p>"Paul - just listen, calm down and listen to me." Michael pleaded, feeling somewhat relieved that he wasn't next to his older brother, there's a chance he'd walk away emotionally and somewhat physically hurt. "I didn't mean for you to get defensive, I love you and I want the best for you."</p><p>Paul took a second to himself, inhaling, and then he sat back in his seat. "Get the fuck off of my phone Michael." He muttered after awhile of sitting in mad silence, causing his younger brother to sigh in exhaustion and mutter 'I'll talk to you soon' all that did was just frustrate Paul even more. The raven haired man hung up the phone with an intent of aggression, and turned his phone off to settle the device onto his lap whilst his hazel eyes glanced around the fullish parking lot for a little bit. Since the last plan was ruined, maybe he could just turn to John, someone that already gave him his number. Paul could just call him over for the art thing and then bludgeon him with one of the metal pipe tools that were in his basement. </p><p>"No, no, not yet." Paul murmured to himself, shaking his head as he stared out of the window. Then he frowned at himself for wanting to extend his growing relationship with John, being hesitant on killing him, like <em>very</em> hesitant. He's been feeling so out of character whenever John plops his way into Paul's head, and it continues to make him extremely uncomfortable. Paul was keen on just kidnapping John, ducktaping his mouth, putting a bag over his face and his life like that; from suffocation. He wouldn't have to look at John and hear his sweet voice, it'd make things go incredibly smoother - Paul was thinking that he should just do it right now since he did have some grocery bags in his backseat for reasons that were similiar to this. </p><p>Wait what the hell? </p><p>Why is he over here treading on not wanting to see John's face? What if there was no choice but to see his face, would Paul feel bad? Would he become sick? Paul spent two hours in the parking lot trying to decide that. Trying his best to decide John's fate without chickening out on things, something that he <em>never</em> used to do with anybody. Paul could either do a kidnapping, or seduce the pretty man into having sex with him and <em>then</em> end his life. That would all involve seeing John's face, unless he was fucking him from behind, but still there was resurfacing knock on his head of having to feel John's body against his - </p><p>Paul ran a hand down his face, leg jumping, and his mind racing with ideas of how to do this. If he doesn't get his hands wrapped around someone's neck soon, then things may turn ugly and he might become wreckless. It gets annoying sometimes how this feeling begins to overrun him, it's uncontrollable and most of the time Paul wants it to <em>stop</em>. A shiver ran down his spine when his phone began to tremble against his lap as the vibration ringtone began to rush through the device. Paul felt his patience close in when the thought of Michael calling him again debuted in his head when he picked the phone up, skimming his eyes over the caller ID, Paul had suddenly stilled against his seat. It was John? That sly little thing must've stolen Paul's number and jotted it down on his phone as well, so that's what was taking him so long. </p><p>Paul silently complimented himself on how things could just fall into his hands without him doing much, answering the phone, he held it up to his ear. "Evening John." He greeted gently, with a small smile on his face, he forced himself to relax much to his calm aura that must've aired throughout the atmosphere of this phone call.</p><p>"Paulie! Um - hi! I was just," There was a nervous exhale, and without even noticing, Paul's smile had faded from his face into a look of concern. "Okay, I know this might sound weird but I have no way of getting home? And my friends won't answer their phone, I think it's turned off. So i-if you um <em>could </em>can you come back? I'm scared of walking by myself near night time, and you're the only one that picked up."</p><p>Paul was strangely quiet. </p><p>John blinked innocently, his brown eyes looking back at Shelby who was waiting patiently for John to be picked up by someone. The woman had waved politely at him to not worry, signaling that there was no rush since she completely understood the fear of any young man walking home around this time. Shelby wished she could drive him home, but she had to go and watch her grandkids since her daughter had a late night shift, if anything she was running late right now by staying with John. John had chewed on his bottom lip as he waited nervously for Paul to answer, his heartbeat rising in his chest as his gaze became occupied with the floor. </p><p>To be frank, Paul was caught off guard by this question and he really wasn't sure if he was capable for actually doing it depsite his thinking. Paul didn't even have the chance to officially layout his plans yet, everything was going out of control for him in a way. Before Paul could summon up a polite refusal, John had said something that made his breath hitch a little. "I trust you.. by the way. You were really nice to me today by staying with me. I don't think you're a dangerous person, and if I did then I wouldn't of called you. This is the only time I ask you for this, I'm just really scared of going out alone, I don't want to get hurt." </p><p>"How do I know if I could trust you?" Paul replied, keeping his voice monotone despite being flustered from the proclamation. </p><p>John let out a breathy giggle, "I'm not capable of seriously harming anyone. I'm a softy, to be honest with you. Makes me a bigger target I guess." He murmured shyly, cheeks turning a little red from that question. "Listen - if you don't want to do it then it's fine. I'll just keep my guard up."</p><p>"No."</p><p>John made a surprised sound at that, his eyes widening a little. "What?" </p><p>Paul didn't know what the hell he was doing, his body on fucking autopilot as he started his car, and pulled the seatbelt across his upper torso with his other hand. "I'll come and get you John. Just stay there for me, I'm on my way. Okay?"</p><p>John beamed, squealing a little which had caught the attention of Shelby. "Okay! I'll be right here." He exclaimed as he pressed his hand against the window, peacefully looking out into the darkening area with the knowledge that he wouldn't be walking home. "Thank you Paulie." He murmured softly as Paul began to pull off into the main road, the younger's mind boggled up and erupting with different questions about himself, why he was doing this without an actual intent on harming Lennon. </p><p>Paul had began to inhale sharply through his nose as a sharp thrill enveloped him, trying to pace the hearbeat thrumming against his ribcage. "Yeah sure, it's fine. Whatever." </p><p>John had giggled softly from the hesitation in Paul's voice, immediately noticing how flustered the younger man had sounded from the other side of the phone as he looked over towards Shelby again. "I got a ride Shelby! Paul's coming to pick me up. The guy that was keeping me company for most of the day, remember? Black hair, pretty eyes, nice voice and really tall?" John had asked, his voice all innocent and gut wrenching. Paul inhaled again, this time his breath coming in all shaky, feeling nauseous. Why is John so cute? Why the fuck is he so cute? Paul had cringed, his mind racing as he continued to consume the soft laughter that came from the other end as John and Shelby carried on with their descriptions of Paul. </p><p>"That's nice John, I just want to make sure you get home safe. I swear you and Cyn are like my own grandkids." Shelby had gently said, making John feel gushy on the inside, a soothing warmth flooding throughout him. "If anything happened to you two - I might shut this whole business down." </p><p>John made a soft noise of delight, "Stooop it." He drawled out shyly. "You can't do that." </p><p>Paul had hung up, feeling as if it was unnecessary to continue being on the phone since he was close to the shop anyway. What he needed to do is <em>relax</em>, gather himself, and level the pending frustration that was still settled inside of him like bile. What could Paul do to John when he get sinto the car? What was possibly in his mind? The thing is that there was nothing harmless purging on in his head at the moment, or towards <em>John </em>to safely put it<em>. </em>Even though there had been earlier it had been cut away from the lack of maintence he had to deal with everything, and then there was the lingering thought in his mind of it being way too early to smother John towards an inevitable death.</p><p>Paul gripped the wheel, sitting forward and leaning against the steering wheel with furrowed eyebrows, his teeth clenching together to a point where his jaw was beginning to hurt. Paul could feel something extremely violent beginning to come over him, and it was hurting like hell for him to fight it off instead of letting the feeling overcome him again. John would never be picked up at this rate, or he would be picked up and that would be the last time anyone has ever seen him again - then Paul would most likely be arrested since John would be the last one with him. </p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Paul pulled into an easy slot outside of the coffee shop, releasing his grip on the steering wheel and staring blanky at the dented handprints left from his death grip. "Damnit Paul," He muttered to himself  when he realized that he'd speed his way over towards the destination, running a hand down his face with the other one punching at the horn, letting it resound along the area. John had jumped a little from the sound of the honk as it rippled throughout his head, and then the auburn haired man whirled around to face the window of the coffee shop to see Paul's car parked right outside for him. John had waved at him and Paul had awkwardly lifted his hand to return a weaker wave, immediately zipping his coat up and glancing back at Shelby for the last time that night. "I'll see you tomorrow!" He called out, before pushing the door opened and rushing out of the coffee shop before shelby could say anything else. </p><p>Paul's eyes followed John as the man trotted towards his door, opening it cautiously when John had finally neared the vehicle. "Hi." John had breathed, frowning, and then whisking his mask off before clearing his throat to manage out another soft: "Hi Paulie. My home is just down the street and to the left from here." He glanced in the said direction, estimating and then added: "A couple of blocks down after taking that same left." </p><p>Paul didn't have time to gawk at him, it was too fucking cold for one. "Okay, just come on and get in before you get sick out there." </p><p>John nodded obediantly, climbing into the car while Paul had averted his eyes back onto the dent in his steering wheel. Hearing the door close and the sound of the seatbelt zipping across John's chest to click into the buckle, Paul had set his car on again, reaching over for the gear shift as John began to whistle lightly and tap his hands against his thighs to make a small beat. Paul glanced over at him, drinking in the look of the visuals that John was already giving off which was currently making Paul choke on nothing but his own surprise of how fucking <em>gorgeous</em> John looked. Even though Paul's got a lot flack for his eyelashes, it seems as if John's were more thicker than his if not as long, exotic nose that Paul just wanted to pinch for some reason to erect a giggle out of the older, a defined jawline that made Paul grip onto the steering wheel again. John looked over at him, matched his gaze and Paul just wanted to -</p><p>"You're so beautiful." Paul had softly uttered before he could even stop himself. Then he just said fuck it inwardly, giving up on his self control and reached over to brush his knuckles against John's now reddened cheek as he blushed from the sudden compliment. "The masks hide almost everything on a person's face. I hate it." He continued while moving his hand away from the older to place it back on his steering wheel, clearing his throat he glanced up at the rearview mirror before putting the car into drive. </p><p>John was flustered, not even sure of what to say back to such an intimiate gesture. Fuck - he was feeling tongue tied again around Paul again. Now that they were alone together, he felt more shy and speechless than when he's in the coffee shop with him. Paul's car smelt good, Paul smells good, he looks good and his hands are soft whenever it touches his face - a random observation but John had felt out incredibly safe in the vehicle. Despite not really knowing Paul aside of him drawing things, like comics. Then a realization had birthed into his head, making John turn his head over towards Paul, trying not to get caught up in the pretty side profile. "Paul, did you think about the art thing yet? You don't have to draw, but it'd be nice if you did for me." </p><p>Paul blinked, stomach turning uneasily as he suddenly remembered. "Oh, yes that. I mean - I can help you I guess. What do you need me to draw?" </p><p>
  <em>Why would you say that you idiot? </em>
</p><p>John's eyes lit up, a bright smile filling Paul's periphal vision. "Really? I thought you weren't up for it! Well in that case, let me pull up what the assignment is." He exclaimed, looking all too cute, excited and giggly for Paul's own gathering regard for the assignment. </p><p>"Right here. We use google classroom, but that's irrelevant. It's for art class in the college I'm in." John opened up the document, skimming his eyes over the rubric before nonchalantly shoving the phone into Paul's face which made the car momentarily swerve until the younger had gently confiscated John's phone from his field of his vision. "See? It has all the stuff that I need to do! It's a big project grade and for some reason I always fall short when it comes to art."</p><p>Glancing from the road to his phone, reading, then back up at the road, Paul had laughed a bit in disbelief at some of the rules the project held. "Teachers have no mercy. Assigning something <em>this</em> strategic in the middle of a pandemic when the last thoughts that are on anyone's mind is school." </p><p>"I know right. Plus, there's men that are going missing everyday." Paul's smile had fell, and John continued to rant on. "Imagine going out to get supplies for an assignment due and you end up getting killed because your teacher is so careless about what's going on with their students lives outside of going to school." He took his phone back and slumped into the seat, yawning a little as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "And then another class is assigning something else big right on the same time that the art project should be done. I'm so close to dropping out."</p><p>Paul could hear the genuine tiredness in John's voice, and then he could also feel something that he'd regret in the future bubbling throughout his body. "Maybe I can help y-" Before he could even finish off that dreadful sentence, John had sprung up in his seat and clasped both of his hands together excitedly as if he was not about to doze off a couple of seconds earlier. </p><p>"You will? Oh! Thank you so much." John voice penetrated Paul's ears delightfully, making sure that the younger man heard the gratitude seeping off of his tone. "I'm sorry if it seems as if I'm asking for too much. I hope you're not overwhelmed because we'll be working together on it."</p><p>Paul stopped at a beaming red light, feeling as if it was were searing into his skin. "I'm not overwhelmed, if anything, I'm looking forward to it. </p><p>---</p><p>John stayed alive that night, much to Paul's disappointment or relief. More than likely both. </p><p>Paul desperately wanted to fuck his mouth, and then run his fingers through his hair. Hold him down onto the bed while John would squirm underneath the forbidding grip while Paul tenaciously fucks his fingers inside of him right until the older man would cried from the piquant stimulation coursing through him. Those thoughts of John circulated violently throughout his head when the auburn haired beauty had hugged him, his arms wrapped loosely around Paul's neck as he gave him a gentle squeeze and soft sounding: "Thank you so much." Paul hugged him back slowly, letting his hands roam slyly along John's backside, inhaling silently to drink in the scent of the other man before fluttering his eyes closed. </p><p>John is such a flirty fuck, what with the way he let his fingers <em>linger</em> against Paul's forearm when he pulled away from the younger man. At least Paul knows where his house is, things just got hardly easier in a way for him, but right now he was too fucking wrapped up in his arousal to care at the moment. John winked at him, and opened the door saying, "I'll call you tomorrow."</p><p><em>Please</em>. </p><p>"Okay." Paul croaked, panting for some reason. "Goodnight John."</p><p>"G'night cutie." Back to that? Right now? Right <em>now</em> John? It didn't help that John playfully swayed his hips, evilly knowing that Paul's eyes were still boring into his backside. </p><p>Paul made sure that the older was snuggled in his home after two minutes before finally  speeding off somewhere. He needed to fuck someone, or get fucked by someone. The second option was becoming more and more appealing, along with something else that was still brewing inside of him but that thought was saved for later on. Right now, he didn't know where he was heading but it was somewhere he'd feel like it'd be clear enough that him being a horny fella would end up being accepted. Soon enough he was pushing the doors open to a pub, pulling a hood up his head so that nobody would actually witness his appearance. His eyes barreled around the room which was mostly vacant due to the safety practices. Just like finding a pokemon, Paul found a partner who seemed to be having a down day, naturally curly blonde hair and rare blue eyes - he looked tall enough. </p><p>Not as muscular as the other guy.</p><p>Right, right. </p><p>Paul walked up to the guy, casting his voice in the infamous soft but sultry tone. "You look so tired. Been a long day?" </p><p>The blonde guy looked at him, and then looked away seemingly not interested in any conversation. Then the sight of <em>Paul</em> had repeated itself in his head, and he looked at him again, eyes widening from the maskless sight of a pretty boy in front of him. Even though Paul was maskless, the blonde was immediately eased into some type of spell when his blue eyes met Paul's hazel ones. "Um yeah - it's been a long day. Who- what's your name?"</p><p>Paul glanced around, not sure if anyone was listening before he answered the question in a low purr that was so quiet no one could pick it up. "Paul." He murmured, beginning to smile when the blonde haired man had raised his hand up to caress Paul's cheek, simply not used to seeing a male that looked so gorgeous walk up to him. It's not always an every day thing. Paul just enjoyed the fact that it was dim in the bar so no one could actually see his face, for now. "Let's get out of here, me and you." With that, the eager and horny raven haired man had tugged at the front of the blonde haired man's shirt, wanting to take him to his car so that they could just fucking wreck each other. </p><p>A woman in the far corner noticed that Paul wasn't wearing any shoelaces on one foot. </p><p>Meanwhile, in Paul's car, preferably the backseat; shit got chaotic fast. The blonde haired man, his name was Jeremy, had his lips wrapped tightly around Paul's cock, both of his hands holding down the younger's jumpy hips as he fucked Paul's cock into his mouth. Paul had gripped at the seat with his right hand, his head flying back as he mewled quietly and withered around against the leather seating while grasping at Jeremy's hair with his left hand. "Fuck," He sighed out, eyes fluttering opened to look down at the sight of Jeremy removing his lips off of Paul's cock to lean up and hover over him, unzipping the hoodie he was wearing, pushing his shirt up and latching his mouth upon the soft skin. His tongue brushed against the patches of skin, trailing up to Paul's nipples which caused a soft sigh to escape Paul's lips as he dug into his pocket to make sure the shoe lace was still there.</p><p>"Turn around for me." Jeremy mumbled, it made Paul curse under his breath, shoving the shoe lace back into his pocket whilst he leant up and turned around on his front. Only getting his cock sucked for two minutes, and now being most likely fucked from the backside wasn't <em>exactly</em> what he wanted. Paul hasn't bottomed for awhile, so the nervous churn in his gut was understandable but still - it felt like things were going too fast. Paul had grumbled things that were intelligble when he felt his pants slide down his thighs, trembling and ready to get on his phone to call George or something similiar to that. Jeremy clutched at his ass, kneading it and groaning in satisfaction from the neverending softness. </p><p>Paul's breath hitched, "Can you- <em>please</em>." He squeaked when Jeremy smacked at his ass, the sound making his jaw unlatch and his eyes widen comedically.</p><p>"You like that?"</p><p>"No." </p><p>Jeremy only chuckled finding something beyond Paul's head funny, spitting casually into his hand, playing with the hot saliva before circling his index finger around the rim of Paul's clenching hole. The raven haired man bit into the seat, breathing heavily through his nose before he whined out in discomfort, removing his teeth from the seat as Jeremy carefully began to fuck his finger inside of Paul. "Wait, wait, no really, stop it <em>hurts</em>." And he meant it, suddenly he regretted not being fucked ever since that Doug incident which was awhile ago. The arousal that was drowning him before began to fade away when Jeremy had just stilled, and impatiently rubbed at the aching spot on his ass to soothe him down. </p><p>"Fuck." Paul gritted out, frustration gathering again from the lack of how much things are going his way which is barely anything tonight. "Okay, can you just -" Paul shifted, exhaling in vexation as he lifted himself up.</p><p>"What? What do you need me to do?" Jeremy asked with curious eyes, removing his finger from Paul's ass and sitting there with his cock straining hard against his pants. Paul had flipped back onto his backside, raising his legs up and parting them a little bit so that Jeremy had a bird's eye view of everything. "Let me fucking do it." Paul had spat, pulling Jeremy down and shoving his fingers into the blonde's mouth which caused the older to hack up from the lack of gag reflex. Removing his fingers out of the man's mouth, ignoring the coughs and wretches that came afterwards, Paul had shakily exhaled to relax himself as he slowly nestled two of his fingers inside of himself - a bit reluctant but eager.</p><p>Jeremy had licked his lips hungrily, putting his palms on both of Paul's knees to spread his legs apart even more. Paul was too determined on trying to pleasure himself since he gave up on this dude, laying still against the seat and evening his breathing pattern while finally brushing the tips of his fingers against the awaiting area. This had all caused him to tense up in a subtle chian reaction, parting his lips a to let out a light breathless moan that rivited through the depths of his throat, closing his eyes in triumph as he moved his fingers in a slow, annular cadence. Fuck Jeremy, and everything about him he can get off by himself at this point. </p><p>"God that's <em>hot</em>." Jeremy had grunted aloud, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock, stroking it eagerly while he scooted over towards Paul whom was locked up in a world of pure bliss. "Here, spread yourself for me. That's it love, that's it." </p><p>'Oh my God, shut the fuck up.' Came a voice of many that echoed throughout Paul's head when those words had echoed throughout the car. </p><p>Paul pumped his fingers inside of him again, it was an angle that he didn't mean to press down with but it had hit his prostate head on which caused his legs to fall open immediately. Jeremy toppled over him as Paul arched his back, grappling for anything while he breathed lightly, his voice reaching a rare pitch that he hadn't really used in awhile. Jeremy took this as an invitation to remove Paul's fingers, holding his hand down by his side as he began to line the tip of his cock up with Paul's entrance while the younger squirmed eagerly underneath him. "Wait, wait- hold on." Paul had panicked, stilling when he could already feel himself become filled without even properly prepping himself since it was a last minute realization that he wanted to jus tmasturbate. God, he felt like an idiot. Now here he was. </p><p>Jeremy thrusted in, missing everything and only causing Paul pain as the younger let out a breathless gasp from the searing irritation. Jeremy couldn't help himself as he fucked himself inside of Paul, his eyes fluttering from the tightness. "Oh fuck Paul." </p><p>"Stop." Paul gritted out, shaking wildly when he had quickly realized that this shit was definitely not going his way. When Jeremy kept going, despite Paul showing him mercy which was unbelievable and gently pushing at his chest, something vile and wicked began to click inside of him again. Just like that night where he comitted his first two murders. "Get the fuck off of me!" Paul suddenly yelped when panic began to override his senses, his sanity was spiraling again when Jeremy had grunted and begun to pin him down against the door which was an extremely bad idea since Paul was fully slipping out of control once the horizons became bright enough. </p><p>"Relax!" Jeremy had yelled, wanting to get this done already since he was already seated inside of the thrashing younger. "Come on, you wanted this." Paul stilled when Jeremy thrusted into him again before finally snapping like a twig and grasping at the man's neck with his hand. Paul had catapulted both of them to the other side of the car, Jeremy suddenly screaming when the younger had removed his shoelace from his pocket - whirling it around his neck with crazed eyes. "What are you doing?! Sto-" He choked as Paul squeezed tightly, his throat constricting immediately from the shoe lace being violently strung around his neck. </p><p>Jeremy flailed around, losing air quickly with his throat becoming tightened and bloodied from how constricted it had been as he himself had punched Paul in the face which had made the younger fly to back, winded and bruised from the blow. </p><p>"You're- you almost-" Jeremy realized in his midst of horror, a tremor shooting through him as he grasped a this sore throat. "You're the <em>killer</em>. You've got to be! Oh my fucking God!" </p><p>Paul jumped on him again before the man got the door opened, panicking with fear, anger, adrenaline, and then there was a dazzle of just being straight up psychotic. Jeremy yelled out for help, Paul had his arm wrapped around his neck, struggling against the blonde since it was the back seat of his car - it was such a small space and it was killing him. Paul had literally growled out, violently slamming the front of Jeremy's head against the window with such brute force that rendered Jeremy briefly unconcious and vulnerable. </p><p>Paul had panted, shaking from adrenaline as he pulled his pants up to his waist - no longer feeling any arousal at all.</p><p> Fuck, fuck, <em>fuck</em>. </p><p>Paul freaked out, pounding his fists against the seat as he screamed out in sheer anger and just unbrittled frustration that drenched his thoughts. Paul had climbed into the front seat, opening the glove department and rummaging through it desperately for something. Paul had grappled at some handcuffs, and then clambered to the backseat again, grasping aggressively at the blonde haired man's hands to latch the handcuffs onto both of his wrists. Paul clenched his teeth, glared scarily at the unconscious man's face and then he glanced down at the still bare penis of the blonde haired man which was completely flaccid at this point. </p><p>Something sick came into his head when he had looked at the forgotten shoelace still wrapped around the man's neck, and then looked back at the penis. With the exception of him almost getting raped for the second fucking time in his life, not even 'almost' fucking hell the man was <em>inside</em> of him. Paul was blinded by a raging vision of a inconsolerable red that had flooded his vision. Suddenly Paul concluded that this man shouldn't even have a penis. </p><p>Surprisingly 24 did not end up happening swiftly tonight. <em>Almost</em>! But it didn't happen, yet at least. Paul pulled up to the entrance of the emergency room which was coincidentally vacant, launching only his arms out as he threw the half-dead man out of his car, Jeremy's body rolling against the pavement as he bled out profusely. Paul had then climbed back to the front seat and sped off which was already wreckless as fuck if there were any cameras around but he was already having some type of panic attack already to care. Paul had made sure that the man was going to suffer from harsh memory loss, and hopefully bleed out to death with his testicles swiftly severed off. What made Paul spare him is the fact that he was too mentally unstable at the moment to actually perform a full on murder, fuck - he almost got - </p><p>Paul slammed the front door, and leaned onto it as he tried to capture his breath from what had happened. Okay he needs to calm down. Telling himself to chill, he removed the shaft of Jeremy's dick form his pocket and the balls from his other pocket, stared at them for a little before grimacing in sheer disgust. Shit got out of control, too out of control for him to even realize what the hell he had just tried to do back there. Paul had just blacked out. </p><p>"Fucking hell." Paul had sighed out tiredly, pushing himself off of the door before slugging over towards the door of his basement. "I can't even fuck without some bullshit happening." </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>kinda short but this is like a part 1 of 2 type of chap in a way</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Breaking News, a man named Jeremy Griffins has been found dead outside of an emergency room. The man was last seen at a pub before disappearing with someone, as witnesses say, in a hoodie which was covering his face. It is believed that this is the very first sighting of the serial killer that is running around Liverpool." </p><p>John was combing his hair while he stared at the television, little auburn colored curls sprouting about here and there after getting out of the shower. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of him almost walking home by himself, not even knowing that the killer would strike at that night. Official details of the murder were being held back at the moment - but the reporters were quick to voice out their disgust as to what had went on. It was a press conference, including the hospital staff and a <em> bunch </em> of police officers. John realized that one of the government parliament members were standing aside of The Mayor of Liverpool, and it made his chest warm up in anguish from how politics became engulfed in this case. </p><p>"Citizens of Liverpool, in my own words, this will be the last time this monster strikes again." Said the Mayor Wendy Simon, her words coming out firm and somewhat meaningless with the lack of evidence that paraded the case. "Innocent people have been losing their lives due to this person running around, and we are putting a stop to this <em> now</em>." </p><p>John had shook his head, and looked away from the television as disgust began to override his actual intentions. Plus his phone was ringing. Most likely Cynthia since she texted him earlier that she had to pay her phone bill off, John wasn't mad at her though. He never got mad at anyone really. Raising his phone up to his ear, John had raced over towards the remote that sat dejected on his sofa and grasped at it to turn the captions on, but the volume down a little. "Hello?" John called out, his eyes reading the words being scripted onto the television.</p><p>"Johnny!" Cyn had squealed, making Stuart look at her with a bland stare from the passenger seat as he rested his head against the window. "I'm on my way to your house, we've got an off day today so maybe we can just go and get something to eat. Watch a movie or something?"</p><p>John had hesitated, his eyebrows furrowing. "Oh - I don't know if I can do anything today. I need to get back on that assignment for the art class, and I might have Paul over." </p><p>Cynthia blinked her eyes, slowly stopping at a redlight and switching her phone to putting it on speaker so that Stuart could chime in on their conversation as she reached into her bag of skittles to pour the candy into her mouth. "That's very interesting, really interesting. Isn't that the customer that you flirt with? Todd's replacement?" </p><p>John smiled softly at that, although it was distant as he continued reading what was said. "Yeah um, he's not a replacement. Paul's just been really nice to me, you know he drove me home last night and he obliged to help me out with my assignments." He had shyly confessed, rolling his eyes playfully at the conjoined sounds of a surprised 'OOOOH!' coming from the other side of the phone. "Stop it! It's not like that, guys really!" </p><p>"John's finally getting some play, look at him, he's all grown up." Stuart had said, slowly clapping his hands together in triumph as he began to yawn tiredly from the consequences of him just pulling an all nighter last night. Luckily he didn't go out, especially from how fucked the news had been all morning going from last night and stretching from at least midnight last night all the way to earlier the next day. Apparently this one was one of the most gruesome murders out of all twenty four of them but no one would officially release the information following the murder until late in the afternoon or possibly the next day. According to the coroners. </p><p>"Shut up, it's- just shut up. He's just a friend, and he's willing to help me." John stammered over his words as his best friends kept on hooting, immediately looking away from the television as he tried to desperately gather himself before he crumbled into a flustered mess. "Can you two <em> please </em> stop it? God you all are so embarrassing, it's not even like that."</p><p>"Oh please John, I see how you two are with each other. He always comes up to you, even when you're not working and do you see the way he <em> looks </em> at you? John you're definitely not fooling anyone." Cynthia had shrewdly said, smirking a bit as she poured another batch of skittles into her mouth and then repouring it into Stuart's palm which he had held out all broached and  opened for a silent permission for some skittles. "But hey, anyways, give me a call if you want me to come and drive back to get you. If not then have fun with Paul! Stay safe babes, I love you."</p><p>"Love you too." John had softly murmured before letting out a breathless laugh when Cynthia forced Stuart to grunt out a 'I love you John' by elbowing him in his ribcage with a pout on her face. "Goodbye guys, I'll talk to you all later."</p><p>When John hung up, he grabbed at the remote and turned the volume back up again while the lead police officer had took on the mic, the cameras flashing and the reporters juggling their words around for questions. However, the police officer had spoken over everyone as he talked: "What we have here is a very disturbed, sick individual. Someone that needs psychic help -" There was a pause, and the man had shaken his head. "No, this person needs to be put in a ward, a mental ward where they can go longer hurt anyone and get evaluated." </p><p>John blinked, his eyes searching the television screen while he tried his best to get some information on the case that was whirling around at the moment. However that seemed really sour since they were moving back to the past cases, trying their best to find a pattern that could help connect whatever it was that had been going on.</p><p>---</p><p>Coffee is very misleading. The scent of it is so gravitating and then once you actually hoist the mug up to your lips, letting the hot liquid ease through the passageway - you can taste the bitterness if the sugar did not show up too quickly. It makes your face twist up in disgust, tongue lowering before it recoiled in rebellion, causing your eyebrows to furrow in subtle confusion as to what you just drank. Or that was what it had seemed like to Richard Starkey. Tea was no longer a choice in his flat, so he had to substitute it for some caffeine which was barely even an option for him since he’d always have some tea in certain areas of his home. Seems like the latitude for that was not in his grip right now, and it saddened him for a brief moment. </p><p>Richard set the mug down on the countertop of his table, reaching into his pocket to withdraw his vibrating phone and being pleasantly surprised at the caller ID of George Harrison. Groovy. It was very rare for George to be calling him so early in the morning, way before their work day had even started off - as if George ever attends work anyway. “Hello Georgie!” Richard had chirped, only to be shut down with an obvious signal of George not being in his best talking shape, kind of incoherent and frightened but not all the way. </p><p>“Paul hasn’t been answering his phone all morning! I haven’t seen him since earlier yesterday, and I’m scared that he might be hurt or missing. I don’t know what to do. I just- <em>fuck</em>. I’m really scared for him, I think I should call the police.” George had rambled, freaking out with his face flushed red and his hands gripping onto different objects in his own bedroom to calm himself down. God the last thing he needs is for Paul to be nabbed by the serial killer, or just straight up lost somewhere without any outside intelligence as to where his whereabouts are. “I called Michael first, which is something that I only do during emergencies, but Michael said that the last time he talked with Paul - he was upset about going to see a therapist.” </p><p>“Jesus.” Richard murmured under his breath, pinky finger sweeping stressfully against his eyebrow. What the fuck? This can’t be happening. George talks about his friend all of the time so if anything did happen to him it would be a <em> very </em> crushing blow. “Yes um- maybe you should call the police. I don’t want you going out there to try and look for him, that’s just as unsafe. Just call the police so that they could go to his home and check on him to see if he’s okay or something. If not then they’ll put him on the list of missing people too.” </p><p>“Okay, okay, I will. I’m going to get off of the phone and call them, but I’m going to call you back afterwards, okay?” George had quickly spilled, not giving any time for Ringo to respond to that before he hung up and immediately dialed the number to the police. There was a remembrance of him having to go to work today, putting more mountains of stress on top of George along with the disturbing news headline that forced its way into George’s mind. Paul’s mental health was also a thing that irking George out, he never got any entrance to the older’s thoughts since Paul doesn’t really open up to him anymore, so Paul doing something really stupid to himself had also benefited its way into entering George’s already toxic thought process when it came to his best friend.</p><p>“This is the emergency dispatch, how may I assist you?” Asked the dispatch, her hand on her hips as she leaned against the column that the phone was settled on. Kind of unusual, but no one else was available to answer the phone but her at the moment since they were all tied up in a frenzy, trying to get information about the recent killing of Jeremy. This one had the shit flying up and hitting the fucking fan, a man just abandoned with his penis and balls twisted off so violently bleeding out at the entrance of an emergency room opening without any witnesses or suspects to be called out. She erased the thought from her head, not wanting to vomit up the contents of her breakfast that had yet to be digested since she just ate half an hour ago.</p><p>“Hello um- my friend is not answering his phone and I’ve been calling him since like earlier this morning so that we could leave to get some breakfast. I haven’t seen him since really early yesterday and I’m kind of scared that he’s hurt.” </p><p>“Your name?”</p><p>“George Harrison.” </p><p>---</p><p>The beautifully orchestrated song of Love Is a Rebellious Bird, or Carmen Habanera by Georges BIzet had been flowing fluidly throughout Paul’s house, the charm, the sound, the catchiness along with the mesmerizing voice of the opera singer would have made it seem much more cheery. However, Paul just had on the playlist of songs titled ‘songs that would make you feel like an 19th century villain’ which included Tchaikosky, Mozart, Camille Saint - Saes, and lots more. It’s not like he felt like a villain, he just felt unbelievably stupid. Paul had looked at himself in the mirror, ignoring the fact that he was shirtless, holding a pair of scissors in his left hand as he held out long strands of his raven colored hair which had been flowing down to his shoulders as of late. </p><p>Paul did not feel the need to wear a manbun every damn day, and besides - he likes having short hair. To him it’s way easier to maneuver, yeah, that’s the <em>only</em> reason why he’s changing his appearance. Either way, whether to be suspected or not, Paul’s appearance hadn’t really seemed to matter to him since he figured that he looks good nonetheless, still in his twenties, and still bringing in subjects that had no choice but to pay for their temptation to be with Paul. Paul was keen on having shorter hair though, not passing his ears but being equal to it. </p><p>Paul had snipped through his hair with the scissors, strands of it falling lifelessly onto the bathroom floor and the sink as his dull eyes stared at himself. Earlier that morning, he was emptying his basement, putting everything that would tie him in with the bullshit going on in a small box before placing it somewhere discreetly hidden. There was a thought of him putting an asterisk right next to that ‘’24’’ since he never really acknowledged it as some type of mindless killing. Yeah he wrapped the shoelace around the base of the man’s cock, twisted it tight and then ripped Jeremy’s cock off with brute force that jerked Jeremy back to consciousness. </p><p>Paul continued to silently cut his hair as he remembered the sounds of Jeremy caterwauling, screaming and crying out in shock, the thought sent his eyes peacefully fluttering closed, his hand pausing the cutting to drown in the remembrance. Mutilation. Paul hadn’t really mutilated anyone before unless it was necessary, if their whole body didn’t fit in some type of containment or if they fought back enough to piss Paul off to a point of no return. What happened to poor old Jeremy, was that he stuck his dick inside of Paul without any consent. </p><p>Luckily enough, Paul hadn’t twisted anything else off of him. It was already bad enough that Paul had shoved Jeremy’s cock inside of the man’s mouth to stop him from screaming, laughing psychotically as Jeremy choked on his own dick, before nearly choking him to death with it. </p><p>
  <em> Knock. Knock.  </em>
</p><p>Paul had slowly opened his eyes, tensing up when his peripheral vision flooded with red and blue. “Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, pausing to gather his anxiousness and force it down so that he wouldn’t freak out. What the fuck were the cops at his house for? Were there actual cameras at the emergency area? Paul had moved so fast that he couldn’t even see any. Paul continued to cut his hair whilst his thoughts began to move fact pace, riveting violently through his head as the sound of the scissors snipped and snipped through his field of hearing along with more knocks on the door. If he goes to jail, no - prison, not regular prison - maximum prison he’s fucked. Absolutely fucked. So fucking fucked. </p><p>“McCartney? Are you there? We’ve got a call from George! He’s worried about you! We're just checking to see if you’re okay!” </p><p>Paul’s eyes had widened into surprised saucers, genuine disbelief washing over him, along with massive misunderstanding. George called the fucking police here to his house? Because he wants to make sure he’s okay? That doesn’t even - </p><p>It’s just, what the hell? </p><p>Paul placed the scissors down on the counter, pushing himself off of it and turning towards the entryway so that he could voicelessly walk down the hall to the front door. There was a tightening glob of anxiety forming in his throat, choking him, but he’d figure that it would be stupid on whether or not he’d act on it since it would make him look suspicious. Paul inhaled sharply through his nose, reaching for the knob and twisting the door ajar so that it could drift open a little bit - the two police officers took off their hats, then smiled at him politely which Paul couldn’t see because of the mask. “Good morning McCartney. We were called here by your friend George Harrison because he was afraid that you’ve been abducted and all. It’s good to answer your phone during times like this.”</p><p>Paul had silently skimmed his eyes over the two friendly officers for a few seconds, leaning against his door frame with a chest that was clenched in anxiety and defensiveness. “My apologies officer, I had a busy morning.” </p><p>“Seems like we’ve interrupted your classical music montage.” The second officer had joked, bopping his head to add emphasis to the acknowledgment of classical music playing. Paul stared at him - more so glared. Back to the other officer, the man had reached over and awkwardly patted his partner’s shoulder as a silent gesture that screamed for the man to what you’re doing, you’re antagonizing him. Paul’s eyes disconnected from the officer, his door opening a bit wider for no reason in particular. </p><p>“I have somewhere to go in a little bit. I’m fine, as you can see. So will that be it officer?” </p><p>The officer blinked, nodding his head after a couple of blank seconds. “Um, yes, sure. We’ll leave you alone. Just checking in to see if you’re okay - your friend was really worried.” </p><p>Paul squinted at him, “Okay. Have a nice morning.” He murmured, basically dismissing the two police officers as he slowly heaved the door to a close before whirling around to trek back down towards the bathroom. Classical music still echoing through his house as he walked, Paul had gritted his teeth in frustration and began to dig his nails into the palm of his hand whilst he began to form subconscious fists. That was vacous of George to call the police to his home, and Paul found it even more dumb because there were lots of moments where he’d just - not answer George’s phone due to some temporarily detachment. </p><p>Paul grasped at the scissors, paused his movements and released an exhale as he stared into the mirror, and then continued to snip at his hair. From afar he could hear his phone rattling again on his kitchen table, already knowing that it must be George again, it seemed as if George wanted to act like he was new to this sudden absence of Paul. Fuck it was annoying.</p><p>---</p><p>“Paul! You’re okay!” George pounced off of his couch and eagerly rushed over towards the older man lounging at his front door when the appearance of Paul had astounded him for a couple of seconds. Paul was shutting it closed as George barreled into him, hugging him tightly and burying his face into the crook of Paul’s neck. “God I was so worried, I tried to call you so many times! I called you, Michael, and then Richard.” </p><p>Paul’s annoyance flared at its peak, shoving George off of him roughly which caused the younger to gasp in surprise but before George could even conjure up a sentence - Paul had whisked his hand back before smacking the ever living shit out of him with such force that sent George crashing against the floor. “What the <em> fuck </em> George? Calling my brother and then the police to my fucking house? Are you fucking serious?” Paul had gritted out with pure anger, staring unmoved at his sterling, shellshocked friend who had his hand smothering his red cheek in silence. Paul hitting him had to be some type of forbidden law because George had never felt so lost in the sauce, confused and strongly hurt than he had been now. </p><p>“I- I was just-” George could not help but to choke up, looking up in denial at an intelligibly vexed Paul who seemed to be calming down once he had slowly realized what he’d done. George knew that their friendship was on some type of mudpatch, but to a point where Paul would actually put his hands on him? George felt like his heart got ripped out, still in subtle shock as Paul panicked and immediately grabbed at his arms to pull him up against his body.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Paul had apologized, genuine this time, unadulterated and actually from the depths of his dark soul. “<em> Fuck </em> come on, let’s get some ice on that okay? I’m so so so sorry. George, look at me.” </p><p>George’s breath hitched, eyebrows furrowing once he had heard the actual disarray in Paul’s voice - a clue that the older was definitely not holding it together. At the same time, holy shit, Paul just fucking struck him. Raged out on him, physically. When does that ever happen? George hadn’t looked at his best friend as Paul pulled him through his house, heaving the younger towards his kitchen and sitting him down on the chair as George just sat in stunned silence while Paul rummaged around for some ice. George stared at him, uncoordinated and understandably upset at Paul while his cheek had stung ungracefully. </p><p>Paul had breathed through his mouth, hands trembling uncontrollably as he opened the freezer door to grasp at the medical ice peas. Fuck - what has gotten into him? Striking George? Paul you’re mad but you didn’t have to hit your best friend. Jesus fucking - “Listen, I’m not, fuck, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just don’t like confrontation from professional people? If that makes any fucking sense. I just got really upset and blacked out.”</p><p>“I thought we talked about that.” George had softly croaked, shedding a bit of tears as he blinked. “I was just worried about you. I know you usually do stuff like that but there was a whole murder that happened last night and you weren’t answering so I thought you were missing.” </p><p>“Oh.” Paul felt guilty, extremely guilty. </p><p>George continued to cry softly as Paul silently walked over to him, diligently pressing the ice against the man’s tender cheek. The younger was beginning to get over the shock, and it was becoming replaced with anger of his own. “Paul, don’t you <em> dare </em>hit me again. What the fuck is your problem? You’re shutting me out, ignoring me, not opening up to me, the last thing you need to do is slap me in the fucking face.” George had spat out, snatching the ice peas out of Paul’s grip and pressing it against his own cheek. “I’ve been there for you, been by your side for years, this is what I get in the long run?” </p><p>“George,” Paul had softly begun, but he was cut off immediately by a furious George Harrison, a man that could rarely get riled up yet once set off, you were in for it. </p><p>“Just say that you don’t want to be friends with me anymore instead of putting your hands on me.” George had growled through his haze of tears, looking genuinely hurt. Paul knew right then and there that he had to fix this shit before doing anything else. </p><p>“I’m sorry, I really am.” Paul had cooed, attempting to wipe away George’s tears only to get shoved back with a ‘no don’t fucking touch me’ but the older was consistent. “George <em> please </em>, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean it. I’m really sorry.”</p><p>“Get out, you obviously seem okay, now get away from me.” George snarled out, withering his way out of Paul’s arms whenever the older tried to hug him. </p><p>Paul sighed out, impatience rattling. “George, come on. Please, I’m really sorry.” Paul had pleaded, before sputtering out a vulnerable confession: “I love you okay? You’re like a brother to me, and things have just been rough lately, I don’t really want to confide in it to anyone because I feel like I can deal with it by myself. I honestly regret hitting you and I’ll regret it everyday. I know I’ve been a bad friend but it has nothing to do with you. I love you.”</p><p>George stopped struggling, reassurance sending him into a whirlwind. Paul wasn’t always the one to spur out those three special words, especially after his parents died, so it really caught George by a sudden surprise. Paul was genuine. Mercury must be in retrograde. </p><p>“Fine.” George said, still being rough nonetheless despite the blush on his cheeks. “But if you hit me again I’m chopping your dick off.” </p><p>Paul’s stomach churned uneasily at that sentence, and he forced himself to look elsewhere. </p><p>---</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>:) here yall go<br/>i mightve lied in the other chap about it being a part 2 bc i suck at remembering things</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> <span class="u">2013</span> </em>
</p><p>There was a harp, violin, a vocalist. <em>Lots</em> of rain. That was expected for the week though. Family members that Paul did not recognize, or just simply could not remember. There wasn't enough room in his brain for him to remember anything so useless anyways. It's not like he'd become close with any of them after this, hell, it's a fucking funeral for <em>both</em> of his parents. Paul stood quietly underneath an umbrella held up by him, eyes downcast and dull as he stared at the two caskets settled side by side each other, ready to be buried six feet under. He felt as if his tie was fitted too tight around his neck - like he was choking. The black suit he was wearing feeling too tight on him although it was the perfect size, yet a chilling gust of wind merried its way inside of the suit which made him shiver and whimper pathetically as he sniffled. </p><p>A hand surged its way onto his shoulder, and Paul squeaked, tensing up as he cried mutedly with clenched teeth. Michael stood beside him, letting his hand stray over to Paul's arm as he pulled his brother close to him with his own face teary and flushed. Paul had raised his hand up to cover his eyes, turning his head away from the casket to bury his teary face into his younger brother's shoulder as he sobbed softly. Michael sniffed, and looked up at nothing to reel his own tears back in as he stroked Paul's arm, letting himself be swooned with the sound of the female vocalist singing their parents favorite song; 'An Angel Cried' by The Four Seasons. </p><p>That'd be the last time in awhile where Michael and Paul officially embraced with each other with pouring emotions. </p><p>After the burial, George, Michael and Paul had got into a vehicle with one of the McCartney's aunts. Paul had a stoic expression on his face, eyes still brimmed and reflecting the sad trees that came to view whilst the car drove. George sat beside him in silence, Paul's hand cupped in both of his own as he squeezed the older's hand gently to try and pace the boy's emotions. "What was that song that they played back there? I liked it." George had softly asked after awhile, capturing both Michael and Paul's attention. "It's like something you can dance to at an old sixties bar. Right?" </p><p>Paul eyed George, blinking a bit as he tried to register the question, almost ignoring all of the other questions racing through his head. "It's called An Angel Cried. It's an old song." </p><p>Michael stared at George, and then looked out the window as he shivered. "It's really beautiful." George had muttered in response, kind of hoping that both of them would at least smile at that. Paul nodded his head in agreement, interlacing both their fingers together after a couple of seconds before resting his forehead against the cold window. George could accept that - him and Paul holding hands the whole car ride - he could easily accept that. </p><p>Paul's aunt had looked back at them through the rearview mirror, her heart aching enough to make her remove another tissue from the tissue box she brung along just in case. "Michael, Paul, you'll be staying with me for the next couple of weeks while one of us figures out the custody situation. Okay? I have everything you two need at home. Even a pet dog. How do you feel about that?" His aunt had asked, voice cautious and careful since she did not know the specific whereabouts of Paul's mental state at the moment. </p><p>"I don't want to talk about this right now." Paul had said, feeling lost and a little nauseous since he hadn't eaten at all in the past couple of days leading up to the funeral. The school had permitted him to leave for a couple of weeks, granting him some minimum class work that still would be sent to wherever he lives from that point on. Much to everyone's disappointment, Paul did not have any idea that classwork from school would be sent to his home and it'd be a bad idea to acknowledge it any time soon. It was sad how even some of Paul's family members - some of them being grown - would disassemble themselves from the young man. Not wanting their youngest children around him. Paul's destructive and sometimes explosive anger kept lots of people of his kin away from him. </p><p>There was one or two people in his aunt's home, dressed in all black, seemingly depressed and distraught from the tragedy stricken upon both family's. Paul was in the main room - leaninghis backside against the wall beside a table and a vase, next to a portrait of his aunt with one of his cousins, his hazel eyes following the two toddlers running around and playing with no idea as to what was happening. Paul momentarily wished that he could be a toddler again, as a toddler he was extremely methodical but naively curious enough in a lot of things that were important to him at the moment. God - imagine how much pressure would be taken off his shoulders if he were a toddler.</p><p>Paul cleared his throat, staring at his black shoes, hooking two of his fingers into his tie to tug at it until it loosened around his neck whilst footsteps approached him.</p><p>George had came up to Paul, thinking before he spoke up to him. "Are you hungry? You haven't eaten in awhile and it's starting show. Your aunt thinks that you're becoming ill."</p><p>"I'll eat whenever I want to." Paul muttered, not meeting George's concerned eyes. "I'm sure her cooking is gross anyways. Not like my mother's." </p><p>"Paul, why don't we just make a sandwich then?" George's eyes glimmered, brows furrowing as he skimmed his gaze over Paul's appearance again, trying not to choke up. </p><p>Paul finally looked up from the floor, looking as if he aged twenty years in three seconds, which didn't make much sense since he was almost sixteen. "Fine, but I'm not eating it. I don't think I can keep anything down right now." He admitted shakily, letting George pull him in close by his hand while they ventured their way through the adults to be gifted the entryway into the kitchen.</p><p>Once arrived at their destination without any awkward interruptions by cousins or distant relatives - Paul had launched himself into a tall chair by the island in the middle of the kitchen, legs dangling only inches off of the ground as George opened the refrigerator, taking a glance at him before smiling sadly at his older friend. "You're getting tall Paul, and I am too. I think we're going to be the same height by the time we graduate school." </p><p>"Oh, that's nice. That'd make getting birds easier. They love tall blokes." </p><p>George snorted at that, pulling out different foods for some type of sandwich. "They love tall and <em>muscular</em> blokes, I'm not muscular - I'm skinny. You're skinny too, but I think you have potential to put on some muscle. You've been into fights and stuff."</p><p>"Me fighting people doesn't automatically give me muscle privilege." Paul bluntly retorted, squinting at George in judgemental amusement as he set down some peanut butter and jelly. "How many sandwiches are you making? Some for the whole house?"</p><p>"No, just for us. If you feel like it then maybe we can go on this walking trail later, there's this trail that I looked up in Childwall Woods and we can have these as snacks." George had said, laying out about dozens of bread on a long sheet of towel while Paul had hummed in approvement of an idea. A walk would be delightful. Especially after the crying fest he had been through today. "Also! The muscle thing - you're strong as fuck Paul. I haven't seen you shirtless but you have to at least have some abs or something, and you violently beat up almost every kid that picks on us."</p><p>Paul blinked, his cheeks flushing a little while his hand made his way towards his stomach, face growing a little darker. "Shut up and just make the sandwiches will you?" </p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">2021</span> </em>
</p><p>"You're going to rip my arm off." Paul had said as John dragged him through his home, John in return giggled mindlessly at that and tugged Paul forward even more forcefully whilst the two of them entered John's personal spare room. It was cluttered with books ridden everywhere despite a large bookcase being fixed at the far left corner of the room, journals, a printer and all. There was a desk in the corner with a computer settled on top of a mat, the mouse being next to it with a cup of pencils sat by the right side of the desk. It was obviously a study room, and Paul felt a small wave of nostalgia strike him from the familiar sight. Being suspended from school would have his parents create a study room for him to virtually be in line with his assignments, keeping his grades up but the horrendous behavior strikes still at it's peak. </p><p>There was a soft carpet in the middle of the room, along with a blanket and an unfinished container of salad, another computer being perched open along with a vast huge paper sheet being placed on whiteboard that took up most of the floor area. Paul let his eyes drink in the room for a few seconds as John rushed to close the door behind the two of them which had made Paul immediately tense up at the thought of being alone with this human being. "Just so the other two cats won't get in, Mittens is fine though, all she does is sleep on top of the book case. The others would jump off of things and fuck everything up, you know?" </p><p>Paul looked at John in confusion, then looked up at the cat who was indeed perched on top of the bookcase, sleeping quietly. Interesting. John giggled at him again, "You look so cute with your hair like that by the way. It's really nice on you McCartney." </p><p>"Don't flatter me Lennon." Paul responded after awhile of forcing himself not to react to those words, he looked at John again with a small smirk on his face that made John blush a little bit since it was no longer hidden by the mask. "Now - what is it that you want me to do for you?" </p><p>John clasped his hands together, and motioned his head for Paul to come sit down with him on the carpet. "Okay so! This is Art 2, studio classes. Now obviously, this is not a studio but it's something close to it? I guess?" The older had animatedly explained, criss crossing his legs as he moved his blanket over his form due to the lack of heating in the study room since the door was closed, keeping the hot air out. "This is semester two, focusing on drawing skills, painting designs and eye to hand coordination. There's a bunch that we've learned so far, but we're putting out a rough draft for the professor to see where all of us are at. I'm a perfectionist sort of - so I want the best that I could do for him." </p><p>Paul stared longingly at him, the way John explained things is so winsome for him to witness. </p><p>"I've been assigned to do a full self portrait, color it and all of that. Just make sure it's nicely done, but the thing is - I don't know how to really get myself down. Plus, I don't like how I look." John muttered the last part under his breath, but Paul had still caught onto it nontheless. "It's better if someone draws myself for me, and if you could do that then -" John took in a deep breath, and then threw his arms in the air overdramatically as he let his words spur out in a jokingly passionate tone of body language and voice. "I'd love you forever." </p><p>Paul breathed, eyebrows raised in surprise from how much is assigned but he had nothing else to do anyways. "Wow, um, this is <em>a lot</em>. I mean, I can do it for you but what kind of self portrait is he trying to look for? Like <em>specifically</em>?" </p><p>John blinked, and then thought about it. "A full body one? I um - not precisely naked if that's what you're thinking. I'd never put you in that type of situation! Maybe just me posing or just standing there, but you'd have to get my full body." </p><p>"Yeah, I get it." Paul blushed, looking away from John for a couple of seconds when the older kept on looking at him with innocent brown eyes. John makes him feel so weird sometimes, eager to fuck him or just eager to fuck somebody else and then think of him. Then again, John makes him eager to grab one of those pencils and stab him in both of those pretty brown eyes as a consequence for making Paul feel so vulnerable all of the time. Pushing those thoughts aside however, Paul had continued on with the current conversation depsite his mind going north, east and west at the moment. "Do you really have that much faith in me to just draw you? What if comes out horrific?" </p><p>"It won't come out horrific, you're too pretty for that to happen." John had said, nonchalantly smiling at him as Paul grumbled something under his breath. "Now, this is all due next month, surprisingly he gave us more time since you know - there is a fucking pandemic going on." </p><p>Paul huffed at that, and looked down at the carpet. "How thoughtful." </p><p>John frowned, and then scooted closer towards Paul which made the younger man want to launch himself against the wall to distance the two of them as much as he could. Especially when John's hand landed on his leg. "Hey Paul? Why is it when we have most of our conversations nowadays, you look away from me and start blushing mindlessly." </p><p>Paul sighed, and combed his gaze up a little but not meeting John's eyes all the way. "I um- I don't really-" Before he could even finish, two hands had grasped at his cheeks and suddenly his head was being propped up so that his eyes had officially met John's again. John smiled at him, thumbs brushing against Paul's cheeks, unknowingly restriciting the younger's breathing while he beamed at him. "Now, is that too bad?" </p><p>"No." Paul said after a couple of seconds, calming down a little bit when the older's hands had released his face. John laughed softly, moving his fingers up to Paul's hair now, simply not being able to stop touching the handsome man. John was always a touchy person, that was sometimes why he attracted so much people, so soft and charismatic, very touchy. "Your hair is so soft, I love how you trimmed it." John had said, genuinely in love with the younger's hair, Paul had soon surprised him when he reached up and grasped at John's hand to remove it from his hair.</p><p>John looked at him with wide eyes as Paul stared intently at him. "Let's get started, you know, with the art thing. The sooner we get started the more time you'd have to touch my hair." John blushed a bit, nodding his head obediantly as he moved away from Paul to stand up on his feet.</p><p>"Let me go and put some nice clothes on first. I got to brush my hair too! There's a pencil sharpener on my desk if you ever need it. I can also make some snacks for you if you get hungry while drawing me." Paul nodded his head at the words, looking up at the older as John whisked the container of salad up off of the floor before darting his way out of the study room to go and get ready for everything. </p><p>Paul had exhaled, waiting until John closed the door behind him to strip off his jacket and fold it up neatly to settle it in the middle of the soft carpet. Afterwards, he stood up and began to remove his shoes since he'd mentally estimated that his stay here was going to be a long time. There was some sort of jitterness in his step as he made his way over towards the desk to pick up several different pencils, mostly using sketch ones, sharpening them all before venturing back towards the carpet to set the pencils down next to the sheet paper and white board. The sheet paper was attatched to other sheets, and it could be easily ripped off but Paul was curious to see if there had been any other practice sketches before John ultimately gave up. </p><p>So he sat there on the floor for a little bit, pulling the paper up and over to see little doodles here and there. There was small sketches of John's face, his hands, most of them being separated from each other. Paul could analyze the erasure marks, stains of tears from John being frustrated at how ridiculously hard this project was for him. The sight made Paul feel bad for him a little bit, but the feeling did not last long since he'd always had a hard time feeling some type of remorse for another person being distraught over something. Paul continued to look over past sketches before jumping a bit when a lous thud resonated throughout the room - what in the fucking -</p><p>Oh. </p><p>WIth a purr, Mittens trotted over towards Paul, for some reason not being frightened of his appearance which had surprised Paul <em>way</em> too much for his liking. Paul's breath hitched lightly in shock as Mittens' tail brushed comfortingly against his cheek as she pompously walked over his lap, cocking her head back to send him a look of challenge before making her way over towards John's desk. Paul watched the cat gracefully launch itself up onto the chair, which had rolled it over towards a nearby window, giving the cat some momentum to hop onto the ledge and do cat things - such as - creepily look out the window. Mittens took the oppurtunity, and benefited from it gracefully. </p><p>Wow. </p><p>Paul desperately wants to strangle her. </p><p>--</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">2013</span> </em>
</p><p>George chewed lightly on his sandwich, looking off into the view ahead as Paul took pictures of his surroundings. "Maybe we should have brung Michael with us. The kid seems down." He said with his mouthful, glancing over at Paul as the older boy continued to take pictures at the growing vegetation that surrounded them. It was still kind of cool outside, mid-April weather taking George by surprise, the feeling of the area not all the way near Summer but not exactly still in the bloom of Spring. It was humid and foggy since it just rained earlier, grey as fuck outside since that was just the first round of rain that swarmed the Liverpool area. </p><p>"Auntie's got him. Plus, I don't want to deal with <em>any</em> family members right now." Paul had said, removing his camera from his face, letting it hang around his neck as he tugged on the backpack that the two of them brung with them more against his backside. "Let's keep going." </p><p>"Okay." George shrugged, "The river should be near, we can stop there and take more pictures. Then we can keep going until we reach the big tree, then we can eat the rest of the sandwiches."</p><p>"Yeah, whatever. Looks like you've already started it." Paul had muttered, side eyeing George.</p><p>"Hey! This is a warmup snack it doesn't even count you jerk!" George had whined out in defense of himself, making Paul playfully roll his eyes with a gentle smile on his face as he grabbed at George's forearm to move him forward while the two of them continued walking down the dirt trail. The sounds of fallen leaves and wet grass sloshed around underneath the soles of both of their shoes. Paul could feel gentle drizzles of rain, and some teardrops that came from the wet leaves above the two teenagers as they walked side by side each other. </p><p>Paul had pulled his camera up, took some pictures of a rarely sighted frog, letting his camera follow the animal as he continued to walk forward. George had looked around with wide eyes, drinking in everything that came to his view with a small look of awe on his face, nature making him feel at peace with everything. The sights of squirrels racing around on occasional trees, sightings of small bunnies hopping around, God and the birds just singing - it was beautiful to him. Paul got a kick out of it too, clicking his camera, and letting his tired eyes skim around in a span of a couple minutes just to be in the real moment without using the camera to invade it. </p><p>George had reached into his pocket, removing the mini map, skimming his eyes over it before his gaze had brightened up. "Oh shit, the river should be up ahead, all we have to do is take a left! Come on Paul!" He exclaimed, grasping at his friend's hand as he began to run along the trail, excitement flooding him. Paul wasn't in the exact mood to run but the desperation in George's voice had caused him to just suck it up and match his exact pace, his shoes were slipping against the wet ground a little bit but George kept his balance stable enough. The sounds of water splashing had surfaced its way into their sound field, the river still had to be running aggressively since the storm was only hours earlier. There was a salty smell too which had signaled fish, and suddenly George wanted to go fishing. </p><p>He hasn't gone fishing before, but death and a funeral seems to change a person in a way. </p><p>The two kids surged to a sudden stop being obstacled by a door of vines, George had whisked his arm through the vines and pushed Paul forward first before following behind him. Paul blinked, and looked around at the scenery - it was green with an inclusion of different colors. There had been fallen logs full of green vegetation growing, showers of dark green vines stringing off branches of trees, damaged dams made by the work of beavers had been sprouted in different spots of the river - needing to be redone since the rain storm had put down a beating on it. Paul had immediately raised his camera up, snapping dozens of pictures taking slow steps forward to trail behind George who walked around the area in the midst of awe. </p><p>"God look at this, it's <em>gorgeous</em>. This place needs to be visited more by tourists, imagine that Paul. If we had more friends, this could have been a hangout spot of some sort."</p><p>Paul hummed, looking depondent with the idea of having friend that were not George. "I mean it could be. No one likes me though, so that's just a stick in the mud."</p><p>George had paused, the only sound between them being the trickle of the water and click of Paul's camera for a couple of seconds before he had shrugged and smiled. "Then it could just be you and me here then. Our spot, so be it. Come on, let's see if there's any fish in the river."</p><p>"Okay." Paul dully replied, following George as the younger boy began to trek over towards the river, taking the dangerous challenge of walking into the riveting waters, using the little trail of rocks to keep him afloat. "Be careful, it's probably slippery because it rained earlier." Paul had said, letting his camera hang around his neck again while he neared George and rested a hand on his waist to make sure he doesn't slip on anything.</p><p>"I'll be careful." George had stubbornly murmured, looking on at the fishy water with glowing eyes. "Hey, I want to see if I can catch one of them, go and get me a stick." </p><p>"What?" Paul furrowed his eyebrows, blinking in confusion as George repeatedly pushed at his arm so that the older could go away all ready to get his stick. "No, what if you slip? Who's going to catch you? And why do you need to catch fish anyways since we have sandwiches." </p><p>"Ugh, c'mon, get the damn stiiick." </p><p>Paul sucked his teeth in annoyance, narrowing his eyes at his friend, as he slowly removed his hand from George who wobbled a little bit but kept his balance on the steep rocks nevertheless. Afterwards he slowly stepped back before turning around, hopping back onto solid grounds, his eyes glossed around for a little bit - only being met with vines and other nature shit. No sticks. Paul had looked back at George expectantly, meeting the younger's impatient glare and the aggressive hand-wave for him to navigate through the vine door and back into the forrest that they departed from to get here - all to find a stick. Paul was too much in mourning to do this, but fuck it. </p><p>Paul had silently crept his way into the woods, nearing one of the trees which had been blanketed in fucking clovers. Sighing aloud and rubbing his still teary eyes with the back of his hand, he continued to trek around, dragging his shoes against the ground with no motivation to keep moving at all but the sooner he found a stick that was long enough, the sooner he could go back to George before his friend would fall on his ass and get hurt.  </p><p>Paul's foot caught onto something. </p><p>The boy dropped his head, eyes piercing onto the lump covered by a fucking coat of vegetation, and then there was a rambunctious odor that swarmed his nostrils that made him recoil in disgust. "What the fuck? Is this some type of animal shit?" He coughed out, bringing a hand up to his nose while he kicked at the lump with a frustrated scowl on his face. It smelt worse than animal shit, so what the fuck could be laying out in the middle of the woods smelling so fucking <em>horrid</em>? Although Paul was on the verge of throwing up, he had doubled over and pulled at the vegetation, swiping at the leaves with aggression to see what the hell stunk so much. </p><p><em>Swipe. Swipe</em>. </p><p>Paul's blood cooled almost automatically, eyes widening, mouth dropping opened as the hungry flies barrled away from the disturbing scene after being interrupted. It was a decomposing face. Of a child around his age. The face of a decomposing girl. Paul's windpipes became constricted, and his face paled as his eyes could not help but to dot itself across the horrific spots of detatched skin, skeleton showing, the few flies that were still feasting hungrily on the girl's vacant neck. When it had all dawned on him as to what he was looking at, Paul had screamed aloud, echoing, rippling assidously throughout the forrest, shaking the trees and frightening the animals that rested there. Backing up, hands flying everywhere, body moving erratically, Paul had crashed onto the ground as he panicked and began to run as far as he could from the body. </p><p>God he was running. Mind empty. Just images of that <em>girl</em> in his head. Even the safety of George wasn't in his thinking process, and that was rare. All Paul could do was just run, run, and <em>run</em>. </p><p>Too much was happening today. Literally seen his parents get buried. Now - he witnessed a girl get eaten by bugs? Decomposing? Just - <em>fuck</em>. Paul 's head was crashed when he had significantly sprained his ankle when George came out of nowhere, plummeting the two of them hard into the ground. "Hey! Hey! Woah! Paul what happened? Calm down!" George had cried out, panting and out of breath from following the sound of Paul's screams. Paul didn't even know that he screamed his way all the way near the middle of the dirt trail they had followed, almost towards the front of the dirt trail. </p><p>Paul fought him, mind blank, and his eyes hazy as George got on top of him, pinning his arms down while Paul thrashed underneath him. "Paul! What happened? It's me George, just calm the hell down!" </p><p>"Girl, dead, body! There was - she - oh my God George. I want to go home, please, let's go home."</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">2021</span> </em>
</p><p>Paul had nice hands holy shit. </p><p>John's brown eyes followed the anatomy of Paul's hands, studying them with his eyes, watching as the muscles inside of his hand moved. The dorsal side, some of his veins being attractively prominent, knuckles looking strong and hasty - skimming down to the bones of his wrist. With his left hand being draped around a pencil, moving the led against the paper lightly, it was easy to tell that Paul's hands were a little smaller than his own - but that didn't matter to John. For some reason, a perverted thought had entered his head of Paul's hand being glued onto his thigh while the younger man drives. John did not understand why he was thinking of Paul's hands like that but fuck was it killing him to have those hands hold him in some type of way. It didn't matter which way to John, the man just wanted to be held by him for some reason. </p><p>John's eyes had skimmed up to Paul's form, the man was criss crossed on the floor, body hunched over as he drew John silently. The older had flustered at the sight of Paul's hair still falling in front of his face, although he cut it, John guessed that it was angle but fuck - Paul looked so <em>hot</em>. Just fucking <em>sitting</em> there, drawing him, biting down on his bottom lip in determination but the rest of his gaze being seemingly calm and relaxed despite the challenge of drawing a whole body. John had withdrew a breath, squeezing at his pants leg tightly with one hand while briefly fluttering his eyes closed to pace the beats of his heart at the thought of Paul running those pretty hands along his body, working him at ease after a long day. Gentle voice calming him into a sense of tranquility, those pouty lips working light kisses along his neck as Paul's hands wandered along his thighs - </p><p>"John."</p><p>John shrieked, falling out of the chair while Paul watched in amusement as the older scrambled back up into the chair without trying to embarass himself even more. "Yes?" John had questioned, pulling himself up in the chair before straightening his clothes. Mittens had stared at him in disappointment on top of the bookcase, shaming her owner for embarassing himself in front of this handsome but offputting stranger. </p><p>"My phone's ringing, I'll be back in a bit. Just stay there." Paul had firmly ordered a she placed the pencil down, making John squeak a little almost spitting out some 'yes sir' like a fucking idiot. As Paul stood up, he smiled in mischief before saying: "You're being so good for me." Which had almost made John fall out of his chair again if it weren't for the intent stare of his judgemental cat watching him. Instead John had parted his lips, eyes glassy from how much luck he had stroke when this man had entered his coffee shop. Fuck it was like a challenge on who could get more flustered. </p><p>Paul opened the door, stepping outside of the study room before closing the door behind him. Paul sighed and reached into his backpocket - glaring evilly at a cat which caused it to scurry - before pulling out his phone to answer George. </p><p>"Paul! You remember that little girl you found the day of your parents' funeral?" George had jumped to it before Paul could even whip up a greeting, the older was struck with the rememberance of it and then shrugged as if George could see it. </p><p>"Yeah, what about it?" Paul questioned, making sure to sound like he still cared. Back then he cared, somewhat, but now? What was he supposed to do whenever he remembered it? Cry? Paul was not fifteen anymore, and he also was not as innocent as he had been at fifteen either. A girl got killed, he saw her body, same thing happens with him to other people who stumble upon his victims bodies all of the time. Paul tried not to snort at the vagueness of that comparison since George was currently explaining something to him.</p><p>"They're trying to link her murderer to the other murders that happened the last few months. They've found who it is and you'd be fucking shocked to know who it is. It's been said that he visited the same coffee shop where you'd get my tea from." </p><p>"Who was it?" Paul asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. Why would the police try to a link a murder that happened 8 years ago to the recent ones? A little girl was killed, not a man. So what sense does that make? But hey, at least the shit isn't pinned on him. Paul's first two murders that happened the night of the comic book contest was in 2019. He was twenty-one. The girl was killed in 2013. Paul was fifteen. That's a fucking <em>six</em> year gap of not killing anyone, it doesn't add up at all, are the police really that stupid? Or are they just trying to shut this case down to shut the crying families up and go on with their lives during this already devastating pandemic? </p><p>George had said the name of the murder after a couple of seconds, wanting to keep his voice low since he was at work: "His name is Todd." </p><p>Fucking WHAT?</p><p>Paul was shocked, his eyes wide and his voice aghast. "I know that son of a - I KNOW him! Oh my God." He raised his hand up to his mouth, a smile of surprise surpassing his control and invading his face anyways because holy fucking <em>shit</em>. "They're trying to link him to the other murders?"</p><p>"YES! It's insane because - I can't even explain it! It's on television, and all over the news. I think the police are really trying to tie the knot up on this shit but it's so weird to me. You found the girl in 2013, and the recent murders began in mostly 2019 right? That's a whole six year difference." </p><p>'Oh Georgie, we are so much alike.' Paul had thought to himself as he smiled in pride, "Well, we'll see what's going to happen. Can't make any assumptions on anything right now." </p><p>"Right. I have to go back to work though, so I'll call you back when I have more information. Do you want me to bring food over?" </p><p>"Nah, I'm at John's house right now." </p><p>"Who the fu-" </p><p>Paul hung up with a giggle, settling the phone back in his backpocket before walking over towards the study room door - glancing at the cat again and then growling at it which made the fucking animal scurry away for the second time - Paul twisted the knob to open it up. John had looked his way, seemingly innocent and cute. Paul wanted to kiss him. He should, why the hell not? What would he have to lose? Paul inhaled through his nose, and then exhaled before aggressively fighting off the urge to tackle the older off of the chair to kiss him. Patience, patience. "Sorry about that, it was an important phone call. Let's finish the sketch, and then I can actually connect everything."</p><p>"Oh, okay." John had said softly, nodding his head while Paul sat back down on the floor in front of the sheetpaper and the whiteboard. "How long will that take?"</p><p>"Getting impatient?" Paul had asked, a teasing tone in his voice that made John gasp lightly, shaking his head while his cheeks bloomed a pretty red. "Sit still for me, and we'll be done soon Johnny." </p><p>John wants to kiss him. He should, why the hell not? What would he have to lose? No wait, yeah, be patient. Maybe John could kiss him on his cheek as some type of thank you without even trying to force anything completely suggestive. Paul was really something, he made John feel a lot of arousing things that he hadn't really recognized in a long time. </p><p>"John, did you know Todd's a murderer?" Paul could not help but to ask, beginning to work on John's eyelashes after finishing his eyes. </p><p>"He's a WHAT?"</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Todd hissed out in irritation, pupils flaring and his cuffed hand immediately jolting up to shield his eyes away from the blinding light that flickered on abruptly above him. The surprise didn't last long because he was immediately overwhelmed from the slap of a hand shaking the table that he was uncomfrotably pressed against. "Todd, you're a rising suspect of various murder crimes going around here in Liverpool. We've exhumed the little girl that was found in the forrest back in 2013, and there's DNA evidence that links to you."</p><p>Todd huffed, looking away from the officer. "So what if I killed the girl years ago? What does that have to do with the shit that's happening now? That was just -" Todd paused and inhaled while sweat began to flood the back of his neck and his forehead. "I didn't kill <em>any</em> of the young men, I don't know who did it."</p><p>Police man, his name is Dunder, had scoffed and rolled his eyes at that. "You might've not killed them, but you could have been an accomplice. We've been searching for the murderer of that little girl for about eight years now. Who knows what other crimes you've must have committed during that big gap, including the murders of twenty four young men." </p><p>Todd gritted his teeth, hands becoming clammy and his throat beginning to burn. "You <em>can't</em> just accuse me of murdering twenty four people because you've found me liable for one murder that happened almost a decade ago." He explained, more so angry at the fact that more counts could be put on him for something he did not do at all. The murder of the little girl just happened, out of his control - he was young and fucking stupid. Seventeen and very aroused, the girl being sixteen or fifteen, both of them going out to have some <em>fun</em> in the forrest. The girl got nervous and wanted to back out, pushing Todd off of her while she went to close her legs - all of this had only extremely angered the young boy who was thinking that she led him on.</p><p>All of it leading to strangulation, and Todd freaking the fuck out at what he had just done. </p><p>How his blood got there was due to the girl clawing desperately at his arms for him to release her neck, just choking and dying from the lack of oxygen building into her lungs. Todd knew her nails were sharp, but he didn't care at the fact that his blood was dropping onto her hair and clothes, rage and sexual frustration had greedily blinded him. Todd was too afraid to bring her to a police or an ambulance, too scared of getting in trouble, so he just left her there - unconcious and not all the way dead until nature had took care of everything else for him. </p><p>The tragedy did continue run through his mind over the years, and he had fallen into a deep depression that creepily haunted his days. Especially when the girl was found after being reported by 'two kids' whom he hadn't known was actually Paul and George. Paul, coincidentally the man he was egging on in the coffee shop when they were fighting for John's attention, fuck what a small world. </p><p>"We aren't officially accusing you of the murders of the young men." Dunder muttered, treading back on this interrogation since he was not exactly a suspect on the twenty-four murder counts, but fuck yeah Todd was still screwed from the missing girl case. "You're just the lead right now, and we're still trying to link you in the cases. If you'd cooperate the suspicions can be dropped."</p><p>"That doesn't even make any sense. Listen, I will confess that I killed the little girl back in 2013. That was dumb of me and I let my hormones get the best of me. However I did not.. <em>kill any</em> of the young men recently." </p><p>"Well then," Dunder had said to himself, his voice low while Todd had squirmed nervously in his seat. "At least we've got a confession." </p><p>--</p><p>"Holy shit. You've got to be fucking kidding me," Cynthia whispered under her breath, her voice laying low since Stuart had his head resting on her lap, the rest of his body perched up on her bed as he slept quietly. "Todd might be the serial killer? That's- I can't believe it." She said in a disbeliving airy voice, genuinely meaning that statement a sheer stomach churned with nausea from the fact that he was such an esteemed customer to their coffee shop in the past. Right now her widened eyes were stuck on the headlines that seared across her television, she placed her palm on the side of Stuart's head to grasp at his earlobe to pull at it as an attempt to wake him up. </p><p>Stuart had grumbled something under his breath, swatting his hand at his friend while furrowing his eyebrows which had caused his head getting knocked on by the girl's impatient fists. "Wake the fuck up, you're not sleeping on me all day. Look at the TV they might've caught the killer." Cynthia had demanded with a harsh voice to let Stuart know that she was serious, pushing the man's head up off of her lap while he slowly began to awaken - blinking groggily with a soft yawn exiting his mouth. "He's an old customer of ours, but John banned him from coming back to the store because he was causing conflict with Paul."</p><p>Stuart intently listened in on both Cyn, and the reporter with an opened mind to absorb both of the commentary without cashing one out. "That's crazy. Paul is John's boyfriend right?" He questioned to himself while Cynthia began to get up from the bed to pace around the room, more distraught than she'd ever been in her twenty-four years of living. This whole time, this whole time she might've been serving a fucking serial killer that killed a bunch of innocent young men. Lots of young men, and one little girl? Oh fuck. This is something that she just couldn't grasp onto for the life of her, even though she should be astounded at the notion of the serial killer no longer being out there.</p><p>Stuart looked at the girl, and then back at the television. "This doesn't make any sense. They said the girl died in 2013, they're just now linking evidence to him? How does that tie in with the other murders?" He asked aloud, resting the back of his head against the pillow, eyes narrowed at the screen whilst he stared on uneasily at the situation. </p><p>Cynthia had suddenly tensed up, ungracefully dropping down to the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest. "Ah! No! No! No! This is all such a half assed attempt of shutting everyone the fuck up so they could go back to worrying about the main focus of a pandemic!" She nestled her fingers into the scalp of her hair, tugging at it whilst shaking her head in denial, shivering from being uncomfortably overwhelmed.</p><p>"Cyn, calm down. I'll doubt that they'll officially indict him. This is all just - I don't know. It could be just a tease. If that's even the right word." Stuart had said, voice low and detatched from the actual situation since everything was beginning to come off very confusing to him.</p><p>Meanwhile, John coughed aloud, squeezing his eyes shut closed from the suddeness before blinking his eyes opened again droopily. Paul had glanced over at him with his eyebrows furrowed and his hands pausing. The night had dawned upon them in no time throughout this artisrtic process, it was cold and snowy out. To be frank - Paul was barely even done with his work. Starting out from steps that he tried to recollect throughout his time practicing art, which was mostly birthed from him trying to persuade his brain from spiraling into deep insanity. John had gripped the edge of his seat, pressing his lips together as he tried to stay awake, speeding up his breathing at some points to keep his chest muscles in shape at least. </p><p>Paul had sighed out dreamily, finishing connecting the lines which had composed a draft of the actual sketch he'd begin to work on of John. It was all slowly coming together, taking a couple of hours to shape up since John wanted it to be perfect and so did Paul - but he'd never admit to that. The raven haired man sprung up on the floor, dropping his pencil down onto the sheet of paper to stretch his hands out to get the kinks out. "I'd say it's thirty-five percent done, near its completion. But there's only a ten percent chance of that." He said, halfway joking when he said that. "So far you look good." </p><p>"Hm," John hummed out groggily, rubbing his tired brown eyes with the back of his hand as he nodded his head gently. "Oh It's fine, I don't mind. We can just finish it tomorrow if you're available." He said honestly before drifting his hand back down to his lap, encasing it with his other hand while he just sat there and stared at nothing. </p><p>Paul noticed that John seemed a bit down, and usually he'd tell himself to not give a fuck or he'd just end up automatically end up not caring - but this caught him off guard since the auburn haired man seemed so talkative all day. Without his control, the question just lsipped out through his lips: "What's wrong? Are you alright?"</p><p>John blinked, twisting his lips to the side as he shook his head. "No, I'm just kind of upset about the Todd thing. We, as like a coffee shop, have been serving him for like almost since this pandemic started and it's crazy how - he could be the murderer. It makes me feel sick." Paul didn't know how serious John was about that until the older man sounded like he genuinely wanted to cry, the reality of him befriending a monster was beginning to sink in for him and he was really upset. Paul made some inward groan of discomfort as he tried to formulate a couple of words to comfort the older before things could become awkward. </p><p>"Hey, hey, listen. All my friend told me is that he killed a little girl back in 2013, they're trying to link him to the other murders but there's no efficent evidence for them. However he is a murderer though, maybe we can just wait until there's official news that could come out about this to make an actual assumption." Paul spoke, not even sure of his own words but there's a likely chance that it may be true. What unsettled him about that is from how he made an opened window for himself to still be suspected along with a bunch of other men. </p><p>--</p><p>Paul's foot was <em>flying, </em>his whole body was flying. Right off of a fucking swing, his cousin (yeah, Jean) tried to catch him before he could stick the fucking landing. However it was too late since the kid's face was already slammed in from the sole of Paul's foot, and his cousin was only several fucking backspaces behind the two of them. Paul screamed out in a blind spiral of rage, his body rolling onto the ground when the impact of how high he jumped to kick the other child's face in had finally hit him. The kid had held his aching face, laying on the ground in pure shock as to what the fuck just happened before flailing up unbalanced onto his feet, ready to run away from the swingset.</p><p>Paul chased him down, done with the parkour, using the track and field opportunity to tackle the kid to the ground in some type of animal-like football tackle that had both of them scraping against the ground. "Take back what you said about my parents!" Paul had growled out, sending a splatoon of punches down against the child's face, completely fracturing the boy's skull with each rage filled punch. The kid cried out in pain, not being able to block the hits due to the other boy's stamina and his quick endurance due to such veteran experience on beating people up. </p><p>"Paul stop! you're going to kill him!" Jean cried out, grasping at the younger boy, trying to pull him up but fuck - there was this unbeknownst strength that surged through Paul and suddenly Jean felt himself being slammed against the ground. Paul left the semi unconcious kid laying bled out on the ground, transfering his livid rage onto his cousin as he gripped his arm, and sent his foot down against Jean's chest. Jean gasped out in shock, cold pain searing through him as arm got bitten, Paul literally ripping his flesh from Jean's arm by the death grip of his teeth which caused a scream to resound across the neighborhood. </p><p>Then Paul was grabbed up by some big dude that claimed he was his uncle, Paul kicked his legs and cried out, punching his fists down on the arm that held him up while several people attended the two injured kids. A crowd had gathered completely around the two of them, much of the whole neighborhood to be exact and it had only been a couple of days after the funeral. George was on some type of family trip, and Paul was fucking <em>losing</em> it. Losing weight, losing progress in school, losing his mind, getting more angry and agitated with certain things - very <em>angry</em>. Paul already had a hunch of how explosive his anger was beginning to be over the past couple of days, it gave his aunt a promisingly hard time to deal with him. And it wasn't <em>just</em> explosive, it just became increasingly violent, both to adults and teenagers as well. </p><p>Paul was out of fucking control. </p><p>Aunt Joan winced, recoiling when the plate of food hit the wall and broke into pieces. Paul was panting, face flushed in frustration and his throat burning in anguish as the food sprawled across the floor had punctured the wall. His uncle Albert had launched himself from the chair, trying to grab at the young teen only to get threatened by a steak knife that damn near became lodged into his neck if Aunt Joan didn't scream at him to stop it. "Get the <em>fuck</em> away from me! Or I'll fucking kill you!" Paul had threatened, not even sure on whether or not if he meant it whilst he held up the knife but the rage that blinded him made his grip on the knife determined. </p><p>"Paul! <em>Please</em> calm down! Please just-" Aunt Joan had begged, clasping her hands together as the young boy backed away from the table, a frightened Jean staring at him with widened eyes as he could do nothing spectacular to help. His fucking arm was in a sling. </p><p>"I <em>heard</em> what you two were saying about me last night. You were all talking like my own parents talked about me when I was little. 'He's crazy, he's mentally ill, he needs help'. Fuck you! Fuck <em>all</em> of you! You don't know what <em>I've</em> been through and you're just going to talk behind my back like I'm nothing? Okay, you'll see what's fucking coming." </p><p>Aunt Joan was terrified, seeing something dark in Paul's eyes as he held the knife in his hands. Soon enough she was pulling out her phone with trembling fingers, calling the police as Paul continued to rant in a demonic voice that didn't seem like his own. The kid was fucking losing it. "All my life I've been treated like shit, and when I retaliate, I'm the bad guy! FUCK that! It's not my fault that I do shit like this! Do you think I <em>want</em> -" Paul had suddenly kicked the dinner table over, the food falling everwhere and glasses crashing onto the floor, causing Jean to back up from the mess at the last minute. " - to do shit like this? Huh? You think I fucking want to? Do you?" </p><p>"Give me the knife Paul, Paul give me the fucking knife! You're out of your fucking mind!" Uncle Albert had roared, becoming bold as he reached for the knife while Paul was in the middle of his speech. To be frank, the man had never witnessed an enraged Paul McCartney, a child who had lots of fighting experience and pent up anger that could just blossom from nothing, maybe George was a little right that he was muscular for his age when it came to that benefit. If you could <em>call</em> it a benefit, although. </p><p>"That's alright Al because I'm calling the fucking police right now, I <em>can't</em> do this anymore." Joan cried, tears streaking her cheeks as she interrupted her informational confession to the dispatch on the other end. "Please just hurry over here, he just turned fifteen years old last week. Um - he's always had a violent history ever since he was a child, but that was when he lived with his parents and younger brother."</p><p>Paul blacked out when the 'police' word had slipped from his aunt's mouth, and he was beginning to race towards her with the knife flying out of his hands. If anything it was in the way from him wanting to pound Joan's face in, but luckily before he could put his hands on her he was aggressivelty grabbed up by his uncle Albert. As said before, Paul was not an average teenager that could just get manhandled - so it was not much of a surprise to Jean mostly when the young boy had actually gave Albert a hard time (a lot of bruises ) until the police finally swarmed into the household to break them all apart. Paul hadn't put up much of a fight against actual trained police officers, so his hands were cuffed without much of an issue but there was still an intent frown on his face. </p><p>Hours later, Joan, Jean and Albert were all collectively gathered at the police station. Jean was trembling in his seat full of fear, not even knowing on whether if Paul was going to stay with their family or not. Paul wasn't particularly sure on what was going to happen to him either, the officers had held him in some type of lounge room with a couple of snacks laying around because - why the hell not? Paul was seen as a kid, so they all agreed on treating him like one. The damaging apart about this is that they still had handcuffs on the fifteen year old, even though Paul had whined to them that the cuffs hurt him, but the officers weren't taking any chances on trying to screw with him. </p><p>Paul yearned for George to be here, talk to him and try to swoon everyone into a mood of contentment before things started to stir up again. Right now while the case worker conversed with the police officer that arrived at the scene, the young teen had drew his knees up to his chest and hooked his arms around them whilst he buried his face into his legs. They were talking about him and his past, for fucksake they always bring up his fucking past for reasons beyond him. Paul was just - God he had no idea how to even function right now without tipping off into a brutal combustion of rage and mourning. "We have an opening -" Said the case worker matter of factly, "There's a mental institution downtown, he does not have to live there but we can send him there to test how he's doing and all." </p><p>Paul dug his nails into his pants leg, gritting his teeth together angrily, subconciously rocking himself side to side as he shivered from the frustrated cries racking his form.</p><p>"A bit malnourished, should we look into the family he's staying with now? Is there some type of abuse going there that made him snap like this?"  </p><p>Paul continued to cry, his emotions stirring him up to no end, and the two of the adults began to notice the child sobbing into the fold of his arms. The case worker had sighed out, shaking his head and looking back at the police officer. "No, he has a loving family. It's just - <em>him</em>."</p><p>And there it goes. </p><p>In present time, 2021. While the door was still opened and the cool air was already annoying the cats - John reached forward and grapsed at Paul's wrist, pulling the younger back to shift upwards, placing a gentle kiss on McCartney's cheek. Paul felt his whole body go rigid, eyes widening and a dark blush curdling into his cheeks as he stood speechless, lips parted in genuine shock. John took a step back and smiled tiredly at him, releasing his hold on Paul's wrist with such <em>minimal</em> brushes of his fingers against Paul's skin. "That's a thank you by the way, for staying up with me and helping me with um - all of my school stuff. Plus you're cute so I just took the opportunity."</p><p>Paul couldn't swallow, or breathe, or move at that very second. What he did do is just lick his lips, stare at the floor for a little bit before nodding his head. "You're welcome, I'll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep, okay?" He breathed, feeling airy in the head and airy in the arousal system since his brain was becoming flooded with all things unholy. Paul just wanted to push the man up against the wall, strip him of his clothes and fuck him until John was a fountain for his seed. John wants to go to <em>that</em> length? Kissing his cheek? Holy shit, two can play at that game, that's just automatically a challenge.</p><p>Even though John might have done it in a innocent way then Paul would most likely do something just as <em>innocent</em> too. </p><p>"Okay, goodnight Paulie. I'll see you again soon, I get off after my morning shift so maybe we can meet up again." John had said, smiling at Paul as his heart fluttered form the sight of the man blushing endlessly from the kiss. "Stay safe okay? Even though everyone might be safe now, Todd might not be the real killer. And I don't want to lose you."</p><p>"I'll stay safe, don't worry." Paul grumbled, trying to swallow but his whole body seemed to be having some meltdown. Fuck - why was a simple kiss on the cheek getting to him this much? John probably does that with everyone since he's a flirtatious nut. </p><p>Jesus.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Paul!"</p><p>Opening his eyes, Paul was immediately greeted with the pleasing sight of sky blue with not as many clouds that usually surrounded the area. The sun was bearing down on him like he owed it money, but it hadn't bothered him as much as it should. Paul had an intake of breath, lifting his arm up and over his eyes for a little bit to shield the wrath of the beaming sun, a neon green colored bracelet momentarily splaying his field of vision. Paul blinked sleepily whilst his name got called again, his hazel eyes squinting a little while he squirmed in the comfortable spot in the grass. Everything felt so warm, so nice and dewy - maybe it was whatever those clinic people gave him earlier, who the hell really knew.  </p><p>"Paul McCartney! Hello! Paul McCartney!"</p><p>The calls got louder, louder, and <em>louder</em>. Paul couldn't seem to evoke enough energy to rise up and do anything about it though, maybe whoever it was could just find him here. That'd be better. Right now though, he was just laying here in the cool spot of the grass underneath the shade of a dying tree, high off some medication, and sweating from the summer heat, was all enough for Paul to deal with. Paul's eyes grew heavy again, and so did his arm which was stilll held above his eyes to block out the raging sun. As he fell back to sleep, Paul's arm dropped down onto his side and his head tilted away from the light, as if it would do him justice but - he was feeling quite tired. </p><p>"There he is." Said his psychiatrist, Matt, the middle aged man was out of breath along with two other security members. "Jesus, how did he get out here? Who was watching him?" </p><p>"Lance said that Paul ran away because he wanted to go outside, but the thing is - if one of them goes outside then everyone will. Boss said that we should keep all of the patients in the building until we find Skylar, whereever she is." One of the security guards had told the stressed out doctor, looking over his shoulder at his partner for confirmation in which he got in return. </p><p>Matt sighed, shaking his head, feet tumbling into a stop as he walked up to the sleeping teenager. "Looks like he just needed some air. Did he eat his lunch?" </p><p>"No, he refused to." </p><p>Paul's eyebrows twitched from the strange noises he heard coercing their way into his sleep, drawing in a soft breath, fluttering his eyes back opened to be met with Matt and two big guys. Paul tensed against the grass, but made no move to resist the adults since he was feeling too exhausted to do so. Matt smiled down at him, looking absolutely unsettling in Paul's eyes, to anyone else's he'd look fine and friendly. "Hey, good afternoon there son. It's kind of hot out here, don't you want to get some cool air? We have a surprise for you too." </p><p>Paul wasn't buying it, he kept his lips pressed together firmly along with his hands clutching onto the grass in balling fists. The security noticed the defensive body language, walking up to Matt's side with his hand on his waist to make him look more like intimidating authority. Matt cleared his throat, and said more softly: "Paul - come on, let's get up and go inside. Okay? There's been a package delivered for you, I'm not making this up. Look, here's the reciept."</p><p>With his eyes following Matt's hand diving into his pocket, Paul sat still on the ground with narrowed eyes as the doctor pulled out a thin piece of paper from his pocket. Matt had skimmed his eyes over it before smiling kindly, stretching his arms out to hold it in front of the young boy. "See? It has been sent to you from Norway by a person with the name of George Harrison." </p><p>Paul's face softened, eyes growing teary as he tore the paper away from Matt's hands. "George, he's in Norway. Him and his family went on a summer trip out of country, the last time we talked he said that he was in Norway." Paul had spurted out, enthusiasm surprising the three adults since the boy was always dull and offstandish when expressing more of his <em>positive</em> emotions. "How did he know to send it here?" Paul asked lightly, the mounting darkness somewhat flooding back into his eyes as the wind breezed through his dark hair, loose white clothes that's he'd been assigned to wavering lightly from the wind. </p><p>"Um, don't worry about that right now. Let's just go back inside, it's really hot out here." One of the security men said, earning an annoyed glance from both Paul and Matt. </p><p>Paul's insides twisted unceremoniously, something agonizing ready to burst through his mouth but for some reason he kept it down and bottled up along with things that were <em>darker</em>. Right now, he stood up onto his two bare feet, the grass tickling at his skin while he trudged over towards Matt silently. Matt had placed a protective hand on the teen's shoulder, pulling him in close which set something insanely warm off inside of Paul since it's been awhile whenever someone showed him normalcy. Pulling him towards them instead of pushing him away. Paul exhaled, clutched the reciept into his palm while hehestantly leaned his head against Matt's side, letting the man guide him back towards the building. </p><p>"Ah my boy," Matt exhaled, squeezing Paul's shoulder. "It's going to get better someday."</p><p>-</p><p>"Matt! There's -" The nurse paused in her sentence, and gave one of the patients a hug since they've willingly been in their rooms all day. "How are you doing Cee? Are you hungry? There's a snack tray in the game room near the pool table." </p><p>Cee smiled tiredly at her, a sad glint in his eyes that said <em>many</em> things. "I just wanted to see my favorite nurse, I ate earlier. I might go and play uno though, so." He shrugged his shoulders, moving past the nurse to trek right past Matt and Paul along with the security men. Paul stared at Cee, squinting his eyes at him before humming something under his breath about him being pretty or what not - fortunately it went unheard between the adults. Or so he thought. </p><p>"What were you going to tell me Lori?" Matt questioned, raising his eyebrows in interest. </p><p>"Oh yes, so there's a new patient -" Paul drowned her out, his eyes locking on with someone tearing open a package, it was a coincidence that the raven haired boy caught glimpse of the postcard that had a bold lettered 'from geo :) to paulie' written at the front of it. Paul sunken into a simmering rage quit when the girl had held up some type of journal, hooting in triumph of finding it. His teeth gritted, eyes going black, and his fists clenching. </p><p>"Freddi! That's not yours!" One of the security guards had chewed out, causing the girl to huff and cross her arms in annoyance. Paul was already on his way towards the girl, practicing pathetically what Matt and his assigned therapist had told him to do before things got out of hand. </p><p>"That's a package my best friend sent me." Paul said, voice bold and heavy with an underlying threat if shit hit the fan. "I have the receipt right here. That journal is mine, he bought it to me from Norway. Can you <em>please</em> hand it over?" </p><p>Everyone was staring at the two of them, even Matt and the nurse. Paul's anxiety went up magnificently, and so did his impulse to slap that mocking smile off of the girl's face as she clutched onto <em>his</em> journal. The teen wasn't scared, but he was more so feeling pressured on not blacking out on this girl so he wouldn't be put in the bedstraps, <em>again</em>. Paul hated the bedstraps. Matt knew how much Paul hated the bedstraps because the kid started crying in the middle of staff detaining him, and he had such a soft spot for Paul - there was no way he could ever put him through that scrutiny again. Even if it were over Paul spraying bleach in a patient's hair, Matt just blamed the janitors for leaving it out around him, already knowing Paul's impulsive-anger condition. </p><p>"Finders keepers."</p><p>Right.</p><p>Suddenly Paul's knee brutally connected with her abdomen, immediately sending the girl to double over while shrieking out in pain and drop the journal onto the floor. Matt literally fucking squeaked while everyone let out an outcry of shock. The man raced over towards the angry boy before the security could do so much a shift a muscle, Matt already knew if they got to Paul first then all hell would presumably break loose. Paul was being pulled his arm, and he let himself be pulled away from the scene - journal in hand. At the end of the day, that's all that mattered to him at the moment. </p><p>Launched into his room, Paul stumbled on his footing, and whirled around fiercely to face Matt with a look of confrontation while the man closed the door behind the two of them. "Why the hell am <em>I</em> in trouble? This whole timeshe tried to steal my fucking journal and I even told her nicely to give it back." </p><p>"Paul, you're not in trouble. I got you away from there before you could get in trouble. For christ sake kid, you can not put your hands on a girl like that. That's incredibly - that's just not right."</p><p>Paul grumbled some meaningless apology under his breath, face flushing in annoyance while held the journal tight in his hand. "See, now you're acting like everyone else. Blaming me for defending myself, that's how I do things. I kick, I punch, I push and yell because that's how I was treated ever since I first enrolled in school." He spat out sharply, making Matt feel kind of bad for scolding him so harshly but the man was still standing his ground on Paul harming a girl. "I <em>still</em> am treated that way because people just look at me and see long fucking eyelashes, small pouty lips, soft voice, and -" Paul was increasingly becoming disgusted with himself, face scrunching up in vulnerability as he described his looks to Matt. " - places that are so feminine. It gives people the right to not only hit you, but <em>touch</em> you in ways that are worse than getting beaten."</p><p>Matt paled, heart dropping at the way the boy's voice cracked. "Oh, Paul." </p><p>Just like nothing happened, Paul chased away the impending tears and cursed at himself for saying too much. "Anyway, I'm not apologizing to her."</p><p>"You don't have to, just stay in here for the next hour. I don't want you getting the bedstraps, it pains me to see you upset." Matt had said, heading over towards the door as Paul stared at the wall like it owed him money. "I'm going to come back and check on you after an hour, okay? So stay in here. Don't want to go looking outside for you." Paul nodded his head, blinking tearfully when Matt had rushed out of the room, closing the door behind him in a hurry to go and settle the security before anyone could STAT team search Paul's room to find him. </p><p>Paul gave it a few seconds before he began to cry quietly, tears were running down his cheeks and his breath was shaking as he ventured over towards his bed. Climbing onto the soft matress, Paul had held the journal close to his chest, wishing that he was allowed to have a pencil wihtout needing to have some supervision on him unless he tried to selfharm or anything worse.  Right now he was laying on his side, curled up on top of the bed in a fetal position whilst he trembled and soundlessly cried himself back into a deep sleep, a continuation of what washed over him when he lied in the grass outside. </p><p>---</p><p>John's breath hitched when Cyn nudged him, motioning her head over towards Paul and someone else that John didn't really know entering the coffee shop. "Oh fuck - Cyn make sure my hair looks good. Hurry!" John had hurriedly demanded, making the girl freak out and dive her fingers into his hair to pat it, style it in a rushed way, but all it did was make the man's hair even more messier than what it already looked like. "Does it look good? Do I look good?"</p><p>"Yup," Cynthia lied as she slowly removed her hands from his hair, popping the 'p' as she squinted her eyes at him to really read the hopeful look in his eyes, to be honest John looked like he just rolled out of bed and the sight was kind of funny. "Turn around, he's coming up here, hurry." Cynthia whispered, grappling at John's shoulders to twist the auburn haired man around while John was whispering back in stumbling sentences of 'wait I don't think I'm ready' and 'Oh my God I can't do this' which drew some of the customers attention towards them. John was forcefully turned around to face an amused Paul, and his friend - John assumed. </p><p>"Hi Paul." John croaked, cheeks flaring red, thank God for the mask. "And hi um-"</p><p>"The names George." George had nonchalantly greeted, throwing finger guns at John in which Paul had gently elbowed him to stop since it was embarassing to do things like that in 2021. "I'm just joking with the gun thing, my name is George Harrison." John giggled softly, and George was automatically in love with him. "So you must be John Lennon, Paul told me about you." </p><p>Paul elbowed George again, not so gently this time, his face flushing. "Why would you-" Paul began with a high pitched, strained voice. "My God you just tell everyone <em>everything</em> huh?" </p><p>John's eyes widened a little bit, feeling flattered while Cynthia just hooted loudly in the background, whirling her fists in the air in celebration of John finally capturing a boyfriend. "Oh you've been talking about me? That's so sweet, what has he been saying?" The older man asked, looking at a smug George, desperate for an answer from the younger lad. </p><p>"That's not important-" Paul was cut off by his estatic friend, and all he could do is just stand there fuming with embarassment along with just feeling genuinely weird while being around John.</p><p>"Okay so like, when he first went in here to get me a drink, he was like oh you're cute and he really likes you dadadada." George explained, causing both of the young men to blush mindlessly, shying away from each other as Harrison the love doctor only continued to embarass Paul in public. "Gosh and he can't even deny it because he told me up close that he likes you, and that was literally the same day when he first came in here. I have good memory, also because it was a day where we scared a child to death and we almost fought the father."</p><p>John was aghast, feeling so flustered and flattered his hands were trembling. Cynthia wrapped her arms around her friend's upper torso, noticing how frozen he was since it's been a long time where John had romantic afflictions going on. "Awe, he's all star struck now. Come on Johnny, snap into it and ring their order up before Shelby sends you cleaning the store again." </p><p>"I- okay." John's breath hitched, shivering as his voice came out tiny. "Um what would you like to have?" The man stammered, too caught up in the feverish spell of being so flattered to even say anything coherent. Paul wasn't looking at him, staring down at the floor in his own cloud of hazy embrassment from being outed like that by his best friend. </p><p>George clasped his hands together, "Some of that ice tea that Paul brings to me. Paul you tell him what I want, you've been here longer than me." Paul's eyes shot up to meet onto George's brown ones, looking strangely shy, causing George's expression to soften a little bit. That could only mean that there's some genuine feelings that briddled Paul's usually charismatic approach, and it genuinely surprised him. Well shit. Still though, Paul shuffled his way towards the register, looking directly into John's eyes which made the both of them squirm underneath their clothes.</p><p>"Whatever you order, you know the deal. Just make it two of them." Paul had ordered deeply, hands in his pockets. John nodded his head submissively while chewing on his bottom lip, punching the order in while Cynthia ruffled his already messy hair, an evil smile on her face. Paul hadn't really wanted to say this aloud, but he wasn't really in the mood to back down right now. "I'll come over later, to finish the drawing thing and then we can move onto the next step." He reminded the older, ignoring the way George gaped at him in disbelief and the second round of hooting Cynthia did.</p><p>"Oh?" George managed, eyebrows raised. "You're happy-go-lucky." </p><p>"Shut up." Paul had whined out, grasping at George's arm to pull them away from the register while the younger continued to pesture his friend on the details. The two of them slipped to the back, George basically forced his best friend down into one of the chairs and kicked at his shin for him to start talking. Paul rubbed distractedly at his leg, furrowing his eyebrows while he caressed his shin as George stubbornly demanded an explanation. "You're drawing something? You went back to drawing? Why haven't you told me? What the fucking - <em>fuck</em>?" </p><p>"I'm only doing it for him. He's got art classes and stuff, he asked me to do it." </p><p>"And you said YES?" George's voice rose, nothing angry in his tone, it was more so curiousity and excitement that Paul was beginning to find his original grounding again. "Doing it for him only, huh? Yet when I ask you - you say nooo and stuff. Tell the truth Paul, I'm no longer your number 1." George dramatically drawled out, sitting back against the seat with his forearm over his eyes. Paul stared at him, his glare intimidating but behind the mask there was a small, bashful smile on his face that he didn't know was there. </p><p>And then -</p><p>Pretty boy with two friends by his side came in, Paul's eyes followed him as he approached John with some type of prep in his walk. Shit. Ah <em>shit</em>. Paul looked away from the dude, shoving a murderous thought that debuted at the back of his head, yeah that was not going to happen right now. Gruesome, very gruesome idea - but not right now. Paul had to think about John, and George but John too in a way. </p><p>"Paul are you even listening to me?" George accusingly asked, interrupting the man's thoughts. "See there you go, ignoring me. You know what? That's why <em>you're</em> paying, I am tired of being disrespected." </p><p>"I am listening. In response to that, John is just different." Paul said, not even knowing what he was saying but when it came out it shocked both George and himself. He was better than this shit fungus of a wordplay, if he were to ever kill John then the blame would definitely pin to him. There was no further doubt about that and it was beginning to piss him off - it'd be the smallest things that would get to him if he thought about it hard enough. </p><p>"You like him, of course he's different. But gosh, give me some time to move out first before he settles into your heart." George said sweetly, reaching over and poking at Paul's chest which encouraged the annoyance to brew inside of Paul. "And he is cute, I love him so much already! Ah did you see how he froze up? The poor baby was shaking gosh, I see why you like coming here a lot. Plus the fact that you've been to his home? Makes it even more amazing." </p><p>Paul's eyes skimmed up, meeting John's own nervous eyes who was approaching the table with the drinks in his hands while Cynthia rung up the next few customers. The pretty boy and his friends, there was an impatient lady waiting behind them, too busy talking on the phone to give anyone else the time of day. Paul reached into his pocket, very unsure on whether or not George genuinely wanted him to pay since George seemed to digging into his pocket as well. John had wordlessly placed the drinks down on the table, standing there awkwardly for the payment as he tried his best not to stare too long at Paul. If he did look at Paul then he'd crumble, and John Lennon never crumbled in public up until this day. </p><p>Ridiculously flirty, very opening and sort of suggestive was his usual persona when it came to this coffee shop. John's persona would just evaporate into thin air sometimes when Paul would do so little, but Jesus it didn't matter because he enjoyed it in a way. It made his imagination run its course, which was a good and bad thing in a way. Once again, it was only because he was in public. "Total is five nintety-nine." </p><p>"Woah, cheapy cheap." George had chirped as he pulled out his wallet, Paul rolled his eyes, and John stifled a soft laugh. "Lennon, I was wondering, how old are you?" </p><p>"George." Paul scolded the younger man, suddenly feeling like a fucking mom. "That's rude." </p><p>"Uh no, it's okay." John said, his voice soft and kind, George just fell more in love with him. "I'm twenty-four, yeah, kind of old but you know." He shrugged nonchalantly, shivering again when he felt Paul's eyes on him. Paul noticed John's consistent fidgeting, it made him want to gobble the older man up for some reason that involved the younger man just being a steaming culdron of untreated sexual desires. </p><p>"You're not old. I was just asking because you look like you'd be in highschool." George had said, being too honest for his own good. "You look so young, especially with your hair like that."</p><p>John gasped, breath hitching and his brown eyes widening as he raised his hand up to his hair. "My hair? What's wrong with it?" He asked with embarassment clouding his senses, before sending an annoyed glare over at Cynthia who seemed to be stifling small giggles throughout her time answering everyone's orders. </p><p>---</p><p>Great. Two more weeks until he's back at home, and also until school starts up again. That's a waste of his fucking summer, staying in this psych ward for what? Stupid aunt Joan for calling the police during one of Paul's explosive episodes. Paul cursed George's family as well for dragging him along on some out of country trip, George tried to explain that Paul was going through something drastic and they couldn't care less. It was like beating an already decomposing horse since George's family openly disliked the older boy. Paul drove those thoughts away as he looked at his calendar, covered up in some type of elastic so that there wasn't any purposeful papercuts done to the patients. </p><p>Paul grasped at the markers set by his side by one of the nurses, popping the cap off to check off another day. Right now he was planted in the sofa in the middle of the lounge room, legs drawn up to his chest while the television was on showing the Lion King for the first time that day. About three people sitting there and watching it with two boxes of pizzas on the floor in front of the trio, they just got done finishing all the Shrek movies but Paul was stuck in his room for the most of it. Paul had placed the calendar back onto the round table settled down next to the sofa, and then grabbed at his journal and the pencil to flip the book opened to the unfinished drawings. </p><p>Ash, named after the pokemon main character, had walked up to Paul with his hands in his pockets. "What are you drawing?" The boy curiously asked, a natural raspiness to his voice as he hovered over Paul's shoulder to get a peak at the drawing. </p><p>"Simba as a human." Paul replied, his voice bland and unwelcoming but Ash didn't care. He found Paul stunning as soon as he checked in here, buried behind the security while a dispute was happening between Paul and a girl named Lyric. Ash figured that this was the same journal that earned Lyric a hard knee to the abdomen, Ash still seen it happened and he was incredibly surprised along with infatuated with Paul afterwards. Such a pretty face committing such heinous acts? It was all of what Ash desired.</p><p>"I'm new here, when did you get here?" Ash questioned, tilting his head a little while he walked around the sofa, now in front of the younger boy, just sticking around much to Paul's growing annoyance. Paul looked up from his journal, pausing the movements of his pencil to stare bluntly at Ash as some type of warning for him to go the fuck away before he could put the <em>sharpened</em> pencil into a dispolite use.</p><p>"A couple of days after my parents died." Paul had answered, blinking when Ash took a step closer, cautious but more and more interested in the teenager. "I don't really remember like that, I try to forget sometimes." </p><p>"I'm sorry for your loss. My father died in January, it still bugs me." Ash had softly said, shrugging his shoulders in a melancholy way to make it known that there's nothing you could really do about death. Paul hesitantly swallowed, and numbly nodded his head in some type of awkward silence since he really didn't know what to say to that. </p><p>"How old are you? I'm sixteen." </p><p>"Fifteen, I think." Paul blinked, furrowing his eyebrows after a couple of seconds. "Why are you talking to me? Did they assign you to talk to me or something? I've already got a therapist." </p><p>Ash had quickly threw his hands up in defense, and smiled prettily at Paul to keep the other boy by his side, heart thumping in triumph when the younger boy began to blush. "I just wanted to be your friend. That's all. I think you're really - attractive in many ways than one."  </p><p>"What do you mean you think I'm <em>attractive</em>? Are you just saying that because I look like a girl? What the fuck does that supposed to mean?" Paul's voice dropped menacingly, moving his legs off of the chair and closing his journal while leaving the pencil in his hand as some type of use for a weapon. Ash had laughed softly, waving his hands in the air as some type of plea for the younger to relax before something weird between them happens. </p><p>"No, not because you look like a girl. You're really handsome, and good looking, gorgeous I may add." Ash had said, making Paul make a face at him in sheer confusion. What is Ash even talking about? If he isn't referring to him as a girl, then why is he still complimenting his appearance like he is one? Both of them are boys, it made sense to him but it didn't. Paul thought Cee looked pretty, but - God everything was confusing to him. "Have you ever been genuinely complimented before?" Ash gently asked the confused boy, there was not a trace of a mocking tone in his voice but it was only coated with curiosity again. </p><p>Paul inhaled through his nose, and thought about it. Girls would call him cute, but he'd take offense to it because there were also times where he'd be slammed against the locker by some tough guy and the word 'cute' would spit out of their mouths before they needlessly attacked him. Paul admitted softly that he didn't know, defenses weakening a little bit but still being up nontheless if Ash wanted to pull some shit out of his ass. Ash smiled at him again: "Well you're really cute." </p><p>Paul had blushed, his eyebrows furrowing at Ash as he let the older boy take a bold step towards him and kiss lightly at his lips. With his breath quickening in some type of panic, Paul quickly treaded back from the boy, stumbling on his footing to create some space. The three patients watching the Lion King were staring curiously at Paul as the boy made some type of embarassing, and strained squeaking noise before speedwalking out of the lounge room to go somewhere else. </p><p>2 hours later.</p><p>Matt turned around, looking down at a blushing Paul with questioning eyes. "Hello there Paulie, what's going on with you? You look like an apple." </p><p>"Ash just kissed me, and he called me cute. I don't know what to do about it and I forgot my fucking notebook in the lounge room. I'm scared to go and get it, so you do it." Paul had uneasily rambled, voice small and his expression sheltered with confusion along with actual fear of being kissed again since he could feel his body exploding in the sheer heat of anxiousness. Matt was kind of surprised, Paul being <em>scared </em>of someone instead?Well holy shit<em>. </em>Thatwas incredibly unexpected, and the reasoning was all the more surprising. </p><p>"Paul slow down, Ash kissed you? Jeez, well I can't really do anything about him being attracted to you, but if you didn't like it then I can keep you two separated." Matt had explained, only for the teen to pinch the shit out of his arm which made the man swat his hand at the young boy. "Ow!" </p><p>"I did like it, and that's the fucking problem." Paul had threw his arms in the air, with widened eyes that dispelled self agitation. "I can't like getting kissed by a boy, that's just going to buy me more fucking time here because - you can't like boys if you're a boy. It doesn't make any sense, it'd make me seem even more crazier to these people." </p><p>"Paul I'm telling you right now. That's bullshit, excuse my language, but that's bullshit." </p><p>Paul was quiet for a couple of seconds, looking elsewhere for a couple of seconds before meeting Matt's eyes again with - an extremely rare innocent look in his own hazel colored eyes. "Just get my journal, <em>please</em>?" He asked the older man, feeling somewhat embarassed that he was being put in another tough situation for the fourth time in this whole summer period. </p><p>-</p><p>John was wearing an oversized sweater, shorts that fortunately didn't go past his knees which left his thick thighs on display as he rushed downstairs to answer the door. When Cynthia drove him home, she decided to stay and do her own studies since she couldn't really focus whenever she was at home by herself, plus she wanted to be around John's cats. Especially when Stuart practically lives with her, never feeling safe on being alone by himself with the shit that's been happening lately. John opened the door, the cold wind making him shiver and wrap his arms around himself while he squinted at whoever was at his door - Paul. John immediately became flustered, breath hitching as he stepped to the side to let the slightly taller man inside of his home. "Oh hi, I didn't expect you to be here this early." </p><p>Paul could have sworn he heard those words come out of his own mouth before but he wasn't going to get into that dwelling thought. "I know, I just really missed you." Was what came out of his mouth, and he was sure enough that he heard those words before too. Probably from Finn, oh Finn, Paul kind of missed that cutie patootie. Why was he thinking about Finn? What reminded him of Finn? Paul shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck as John tried to search for some words to respond to that confession.</p><p>"I missed you too." John uttered softly, cheeks red. "Hey your mask is still on, take that off." </p><p>Paul whipped the mask off, sucking in a breath as he cleared his throat. "My fault, I forgot I still had it on. Or something -" Paul shook his head again, wanting to get rid of this awkwardness between them after what was said in the coffee shop earlier. "Do you have anything to drink?'</p><p>John's eyes lit up, and he became excited at the idea of showing Paul his new kitchen decorations. "Yes. Of course, c'mon, follow me." He lightly said, joyfully while guiding Paul towards his kitchen as he began to walk away from the door with Paul trailing behind him quietly. "Mittens is still asleep in the study room, she must've missed you because she slept where you were sitting at mostly and that's rare because she usually moves around." </p><p>"Is that so?" Paul questioned, inhaling through his nose again as the two of them made their way into the kitchen. John nodded his head, looking over towards Paul as he bounded towards the refrigerator, fingers wrapped around the handle and Paul couldn't help but to stare at the way the older hands slid down the length of the handle. Paul's eyes fluttered, urges to just wreck John growing, he began forcing himself to turn away as an act to look around the home for a little bit while John tilted his head at him in curiosity. </p><p>"Are you okay?" </p><p>"Yeah, just feeling dehydrated." Paul truthfully admitted in many ways than one, his hazel eyes scaling up John's bare legs, upperhalf covered by the oversized sweater. Paul is dehydrated, and he needs to drink John in some way or another. John eventually pulled out a bottle of fruit punch, his face looking calculated as he walked over towards Paul, bottle in his hand and his eyes on the floor.</p><p>"Paul, is it true that you liked me as soon as you first saw me?' John had softly asked, seemingly hesitant in his wording while he began tightening his grip on the fruit punch bottle as Paul reached over and grasped at it. "Or was your friend just lying to me so you two could get a reaction out of me? Because I like you too and I don't want to get my heart played with."</p><p>Paul's breath had hitched, and he felt fucking frozen on not even knowing what to do, voices in his mind telling him to just kill this fool already before he digs a hole for himself. This is like the second genuine, romantic-affiliated confession to ever happen in his life and it was coming from someone that may or may <em>not</em> live another day to remember it. Before Paul knew it, a couple of awkward seconds had passed and John grew so fucking humiliated for even mentioning something like that, so with a look of embarassment, John had released his hold of the water bottle to walk away from Paul. Soon enough, Paul snapped back into it, blurting out: "Yes, it was true. You seemed very appealing to me so I told him about you, and I remember saying something between the lines of I like you." </p><p>John blinked, whirling around. "Do you really remember or are you just saying that?" </p><p>Paul huffed, slowly becoming irritated. "I don't fucking know, but I feel <em>something</em> for you at least." He spat out, making John flinch a little at the unfamiliar harsh tone. "I'm not good with this crushing or liking people stuff and George just said that because - I don't know." </p><p>"How do you not know? He's your friend, is he not?" John asked, not even meaning to sound so bothered but he just really adored Paul, being around him and everything in between. </p><p>Paul clicked his tongue, leveling his anger by just abruptly approaching John with a blank look in his eyes. John's brown eyes had widened a bit, backing up until his back hit the counter top, hands reaching out as Paul suddenly cornered him against the counter. "Paul? What are you-" He was cut off when the younger had reached for the front of John's sweatshirt to suddenly pull the man in, letting their lips press against each others without any bracing from John's side. Paul minced their lips together, seducing John enough to have the older flutter his eyes closed after a couple of seconds of trying to gather himself, releasing John's shirt the younger let his hands desperately grasp at the auburn haired man's waist. </p><p>John was becoming fucked up, overtaken by how good Paul was controlling the kiss, having no choice but to submit while his hands flied up to grip pathetically at McCartney's biceps. John shuddered at the feeling of Paul's tongue stroking hotly into his mouth, dominating. With their saliva mixing together, basically daring at the chances of covid-19, Paul had squeezed timidly at John's waist while he pressed himself against the older. John had crumbled against Paul's body, this time allowing himself to do so, mewling into Paul's mouth when the feeling of Paul's pelvis began to brush against his clothed, but slowly awakening cock. </p><p>Paul withdrew from the provacative kiss, right hand shifting up underneath John's sweater to unashamedly feel at the warm, and soft skin. "I do like you, a lot by the way. In ways that I can't even list." He said to John, still pressing against him, keeping John settled against the counter without any chance of moving any time soon. "To be specific, I want to do a lot of things to you right now. None of them pertaining to school work. Only because I <em>like</em> you." </p><p>John literally whimpered, breaths coming out shaky, his hips trying not to jut up against Paul's as those words began to enroll themselves permanently into his brain. Jesus fucking Christ. "Paul I- I like you a lot too." He said, feeling stupid and horny, more so stupid since it didn't make any sense. However, Paul caressed his cheek and dragged his thumb along the softness of John's bottom lip, mentally arguing with himself but he refused to zone out right now, driving John away again. </p><p>So, with a rumble, Paul told John to go and get the school stuff set up. It took John a minute to regather himsef as he shakily made his way towards his study room, leaving Paul alone in the kitchen. The raven haired man thoroughly made sure John was gone, before cursing under his breath and throwing a frustrated hand down against the countertop which made a loud thud resonate in the kitchen. Oh for fucks sakes Paul, why did it have to be this way?</p><p>You had ONE fucking JOB to do, kill this guy, and run. Instead you catch fucking <em>feelings</em>? Oh for the love of God. Do you want this death to <em>hurt</em> Paul? </p><p>Well after all, pain could be the greatest motivator for him. Who the hell knows at this point?</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John was on haunched over on his chair, pencil scribbling over his math notebook, a confusing pathway to do trigometry being placed upon his shoulders from the younger man who sat nearby. Paul had blankly stared at him, not even noticing Mittens approaching him with a hypnotic vibe coming off of her, springing up from the floor to land casually on Paul's lap which made the man tense up a little bit. With his hands immediately flying up into the air so that he wouldn't accidentally touch her or anything, Paul had leaned back on discomfort while Mittens sat bravely in his lap, nonchalantly running her tongue along her paws while purring from the aura of warmth resonating from Paul's body. </p><p>"You can pet her, she likes you." John had said, a small and annoyingly innocent smile on his face. "Go on. Just pet her, she's a nice cat for the most part."</p><p>"I don't like animals." Paul had truthfully admitted, a genuine frown on his face which caused John to playfully roll his eyes at him. "Can you just - can you just come and get her?" The younger asked, feeling irritated at the way he was stammering over his words while John closed the math notebook to walk over towards the two of them. John had hummed as he  knelt down on the floor besides Paul, throwing a glimpse at the unfinished art project before averting his attention back on Mittens and Paul. </p><p>"I was wondering, if we could just spend the day together watching a movie rather than doing school work." John had admitted, moving Mittens onto his own lap, running his hand along her fur as his eyes took in the different shades of color that washed over Mittens' coat. Paul silence became noticeable, but John just let it drown him until Paul made a move, the younger was most likely thinking of an answer to that. Even if it weren't an exact question, there was some type of affirmation lingering between the two of them. In other words pertaining to the suggestion, John was still drunk off of that heated kiss in the kitchen and he could not seem to stay still, so he jumped out of a mental opened window to ask Paul if they could do something else. </p><p>"Is that what you want? Do you think it's a good idea?" Paul had asked him, his voice being naturally careful and soft this time, just casually observing the way John's cheeks molded into a light red. </p><p>"If it were a bad idea, I would not have asked. I just can't really seem to focus on anything right now, and the math problem you gave me makes it worse." John admitted, cutely pouting when Paul began to smirk at him. "You can't just kiss me and expect me to formulate correct math answers. Like tangent and cotangent, what does that even mean?"</p><p>"What if I kiss you again and it makes you focus this time?" Paul had asked him, halfway meaning it, only because John's fucking thighs were still on pleasant display. John shook his head in disbelief, murmuring a stubborn; 'You wouldn't' only to shudder when Paul suddenly reached at him, grasping at John's hips and using only a pint of his strength to yank the older man across the blanket over onto his lap which caused Mittens to fly out of John's arms. </p><p>"Jesus fuck, you're really <em>strong</em>. You almost ruffled my blankie too." John had blurted out, fixing himself on the younger's lap, his side was pressed against Paul's chest, making it easier for the younger to impolitely breathe against the skin of John's neck which caused the older's breath to hitch. "What are you doing?" </p><p>Paul ignored him for a couple of seconds, gingerly running his fingers through the softness of John's hair. The thought of pulling his hair to the point of when the strands began to tear out of his scalp had crossed over Paul's head, causing his fingers to subtly dig into the older's scalp while John innocently played with the hem of the younger's shirt. What had stopped Paul from ripping John's hair out was the footsteps of someone approaching the study room, all of the sounds from outside of the closed door making him tense up immediately. Shit - that was close.</p><p>Cynthia abruptly opened the door, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hands, looking as if she just slept for years. "Johnny, I know you're busy doing your school work with Paul but I'm fucking starving. Like there's literally nothing that I can eat in your fridge."</p><p>John looked up at her, gently excusing Paul as he stood up from the younger's lap. Cynthia watched, her eyebrows raised in surprise, a look of amusement beginning to grow on her face but John failingly attempted to melt it off with a warning glare. </p><p>Cynthia looked on at Paul who sat deadpanned on the floor, looking a bit pissed off but she couldn't tell due to the remoteness in the young man's eyes. As John brushed past her to go and fix something, Cynthia leaned her backside against the door as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, smiling purely at Paul. "So um-" She began, wanting to make conversation with Paul since John was obviously hooked on him and because he might be around for the long run. "I think John really likes you. I mean - he's my bestfriend so like I would know, but yeah."</p><p>Paul stared on, feeling awkward. "I like him too." The words unnaturally dripped off his tongue, making his body feel weird in lots of ways that he couldn't get himself to explain. </p><p>Cynthia's smile widened, her eyes lighting up. "That's great, just make sure you treat him well if things ever go on far enough. John's like a little brother to me." </p><p>Far enough, yeah okay. Paul nodded his head at nothing in particular, blinking his dark eyes down to the unfinished piece as he ran his tongue along his lips to ground himself back into reality. When was the last time he actually had sex? Was it with Angel? God why did that feel so long ago? Is it possible that he could convince John to do something with him since they already went as far as kissing, Paul going as far as actually telling the older that he wanted to do lots of things to him. Paul was still hooked up on the kiss a smuch as John is, but he wasn't going to admit it to John or himself. </p><p>Paul already had a taste of that man, and now he wants the whole load. </p><p>Cynthia must've left since Paul heard her and John laughing together in the kitchen nearby after Cynthia did an impression of some cartoon character. Paul drew lines of John's hair, beginning to start on that after tracing everything that involved his face, he'd have to erase it anyways. To be honest, he didn't even know what the outcome was about to be of this, whether or not it looked realistic. Hell, he had to base it off of something since he hadn't drawn anything in awhile, a long while. </p><p>John hurriedly sprinted back in with his plate of sushi and the soy sauce set on the side of the plate, making Paul's pencil grip slip and a long slash to come across John's cheek in the drawing. Paul bit the inside of his cheek, blinking blankly as John set the plate down beside him and leaned in curiously to see what had Paul so frozen on the floor. "Oh! Seems like I cut myself, it'd be cool if you could keep that there. It makes me look like I have this cool villian scar on my cheek, doesn't it look cool?" </p><p>Paul smiled a little despite himself, his chest warming up without him really even knowing or noticing to be specific. "You want a scar on your pretty face?" John had feverishly blushed at that question, shoving sushi in his mouth, chewing on it aggressively with a little pout. Paul stared at him with a look of fascination for a couple of seconds, and then he retraced his gaze back to the drawing before pushing it away. "Let's watch a movie John, you and me."</p><p>John's eyes lit up, "Really?" He managed, trying not to say much since his mouth was still full of sushi. "Okay! What movie?"</p><p>"Any movie you have in mind." Paul replied, thinking about how striking John looks right now, if he were a normal person then Paul would pull him in for another kiss but unfortunately, he was not. Paul was far from a normal person, he's a man that runs around killing innocent people and refusing to do any treatment for his deteriorating mental state. </p><p> </p><p>Paul blinked his eyes opened, sun rays knocking him almost completely blind for a couple of seconds until Michael had showered him with more: "Wake up! We're going to be late." Late for what was the exact question that plopped its way into Paul's head as he inhaled sharply through his nose, burying his face back into the pillow to chase the sleep that continued to call for him. What the hell even happened? How did he get here? Paul remembered being with John and watching a movie with him, he must've left the man's home early and crash landed into a deep slumber since he could not seem to remember anything. </p><p>Wait. </p><p>Paul had breathed in, his eyes fluttering opened again as he lifted his head up from the pillow, meeting Michael's own tired eyes. "What the fuck are you doing here?"</p><p>"Therapy appointment. I made one already for you even though you try to run away from it everytime." Michael had huffed, putting his hands on his hips as he glanced around Paul's room for a couple of seconds, he really hadn't been here in awhile and he was genuinely surprised to see how clean it is. "And I called George earlier about it. We both agree that you should go to it, at least once a month. Don't get mad at him either because he told me that you slapped him the other day." </p><p>Paul was still trying to wake up, more so on a civil ground instead of immediately lashing out at his brother since his tiredness was still penetrating him. Slowly, he sat up on his bed, whipping the covers off of him, while grumbling something inaudible under his breath as Michael stared at him in concern. So Michael couldn't pick more of an appropriate time to annoy the shit out of Paul, it specifically had to be the first thing the raven haired man had to wake up to? "Are you going to fucking stare at me the entire time? Get the hell out so I can get dressed." Paul spat, making Michael flinch and nod his head before hurrying out of the bedroom, to be frank he wanted to physically harm his brother at the moment but there was something holding him back from doing that. </p><p>Paul grabbed at his phone, checking the time and reading 7:10 in the morning with some type of annoyed frown on his face. There was a text message notification that was sent by midnight of last night, and when he swiped it open it was a message from John Lennon. Paul's breath caught in his throat, something washing over him as he read the message in some type of disarray. </p><p>
  <em>'hi we watched like a bunch of movies last night! i really enjoyed it, it felt like a date in some way.. i know that may sound like too much but it's how i felt personally. i can't wait to see you again, either at work or in the afternoon whenever ur available!'</em>
</p><p>Paul reread the sentence of John saying that it felt like a date, something pink flowing into his cheeks and his heart beginning to pace up into a fast heartbeat. If it were a cartoon, there'd be bunches of small little hearts evaporating off of him, cupid shooting a bunch of arrows at him as his heartbeat pounded vigorously inside of his ears. Oh fuck. Paul had stood up off of the bed, his eyes still roaming over that very sentence as he made his way into his bathroom, opening the bathroom door with one hand while his eyes continued to skim over the sentence. Paul sighed, not all the way dreamily but it was something close to it while he looked up form his phone to look into his bathroom. </p><p>As soon as his eyes shot up, Paul's phone fell out of his hand and his eyes widened at the sight of  blood drops poured into his vision. Clothes that he wore from last night being all bloodied, fucking <em>soaked</em> with the liquid, the counter top of his sink being stained with blood as well. It looked fresh and dried at the same time, but it didn't matter at the moment since Paul had immediately slammed the door closed with a dry throat. </p><p>What the fuck did he - what the fuck?</p><p>"Shit, shit, <em>shit</em>." Paul cursed under his breath, sending a fist down to his own forehead while he opened the door again, having it opened just a little bit just to see the blood spattered scene still being there. Paul stomped his foot against the floor in frustration, closing the door again and leaning on it with a pale face as his breathing picked up unhealthily. God he felt as if he was going to have a fatal panic attack, and he wasn't even sure if Michael had seen it or not. </p><p>Paul stumbled on his footing, fitting on some shoes as he grappled at the T shirt to pull it on. Michael was waiting in Paul's kitchen, becoming disturbed from the footsteps that heavily approached him and he seen his disheveled brother come into view. Paul was trying to conjure up some words that wouldn't exactly put him in some type of position of being suspected on. "How did you get in here? And how long have you've been in here?"</p><p>Michael blinked, very confused as to why Paul looked so fucking jittery all of a sudden since he was just acting like an asshole not too long ago  "Um. The door was unlocked, and I've only been here for a couple of minutes. I was calling you at first but I think you blocked my number."  </p><p>"So you -" Paul cut himself off, trying to level his breathing. "Did you see -" Paul tried again, and then he realized what he was trying to say. Michael gaped at him, not used to seeing his brother so on edge at all in his lifetime, Paul looked genuinely horrified and he couldn't put a single finger on why he looked so off at that very second. "Okay, just wait outside for me and I'll be ready." </p><p>"Paul, is there something wrong?" </p><p>Paul snarled at him, looking unbelivably scary as he hissed out. "I said <em>wait outside. So go outside.</em>" It took no time for Michael to spring up in his chair, basically sprinting outside to hurriedly get into his car while Paul watched him run until the younger man was no longer in his field of sight. Paul had exhaled shakily, immediately making his way to his basement to get some bleach to remove all of that, get it squared away before he could hop into the shower and take care of himself before going to see this stupid therapist. </p><p>On his mind was the repeated question of what happened? Who got the boot? And when did it happen? Paul refused to acknowledge that it could have been John since the last time he texted him was sort of yesterday when all that Paul could remember is him being with John. Everything was becoming incredibly confusing to him, the timeline of all of this was mentally  fucking him up, <em>badly</em>.</p><p>--</p><p>John incorrectly blow dried his hair to a point where it began to look fuzzy, giving him a lions look, it's been hours since he washed his hair and it was too early for him to go to work so he wanted to play around with it. Stuart came up behind him snd snatched it from his grip making John reach up with grabby hands and a whine for the older man to give it back to him. "You're not even doing it right." Stuart had scolded, shaking his head at John as he took the brush off of the sink counter and began to brush it through the soft auburn hair. "Look at you, you look like a character off of the Hobbit." </p><p>"You're so mean." John had cutely pouted, and then he began blinking as he remembered something that he reminded himself of telling Stuart. "Oh! Stu, I might um -I wouldn't say that I have a boyfriend now but -" The younger man gasped as Stuart suddenly whirled him around so that John was facing him, strands of his hair falling onto his face while he looked at his best friend. </p><p>"You know that I know this already right?" Stuart had questioned, brushing his palm against John's hair to keep it back so that he could see the man's whole face. "The Paul bloke, yeah, Cynthia already told me that you were sitting on his lap and all. I'm just saying that it should have been me but go ahead and knock yourself out." </p><p>John blushed, playfully slapping at Stuart's chest. "You were not going to take us serious so why should I have given you a chance? Plus, I thought you were over all of that." </p><p>"Still hurts, I am but it still hurts that someone else would be touching all of <em>this</em>." Stuart roamed his hands along John's body until the younger had lightly shoved a giggling Stuart away from him, rolling his eyes while he shook his head as a blush invaded his cheeks. "But I'm happy for you Johnny, genuinely happy for you if you and the Paul bloke ever get to reach a point of no return." John continued to smile to himself while Stuart congragulated him, remembering last night when Paul had allowed John to basically cuddle him as if he was his body pillow. The younger's body was so comfortable to lay against, plus Paul smelt good so he was on a cloud of all clouds when Paul's arm had secured itself around his waist.</p><p>Paul seemed to get really quiet, body language making it seem as if he wanted John to remain close to him in all ways possible. John was oblivious to how much Paul wanted to take him apart on the couch, strip him of his clothes and give them both something to remember. It's most likely because Paul did not come out and say what he wanted to do to him. Even when he subtly explained that he wanted to do a lot of things to John.</p><p>Fucking hell. </p><p>Paul was not sure how much John wanted it too. John hadn't really responded to whatever Paul could have meant by that, mostly because he was sure enough that the younger spoke of it in the heat of the moment after such a ravishing kiss. John didn't want to further embarass himself because asking for sex from someone whose just helping you out with your classes is just - you just don't do that. It's not right to do something like that, so why should he do that? </p><p>John zoned out as Stuart continued doing his hair, not even noticing that the older man was beginning to trim it down so that it could resemble some type of Elvis style until a big chunk of his hair landed on his thigh. "Stuart what the hell are you doing?" John had croaked out, blinking as he began to squirm away from Stuart while the man continued to cut his hair in a specific way. </p><p>"Shh, let me do this. You're going to look so cute like this, trust me. I know what I'm doing."</p><p>
  <em>Last night 4:10 am</em>
</p><p><em>"</em>Yeah babe, I'm on my way h -" Arnold was interrupted when an arm was whisked around his neck, the odor of chloroform knocking him out immediately as his girlfriend called upon his name as he was dragged into a dark alleyway. Paul had stumbled back as he let a sharp knife penetrate the back of Arnold which caused his blood to spurt out nastily onto his own clothes. Blinded by the haze of his soul being momentarily possessed with something so volatile, Paul aggressively jerked the man's head into a perfect 180 degree angle, breaking his neck in the most impassionate way a person could. </p><p>The snap resounded across the empty alleyway, and so did the thud of Arnold's body hitting the hard ground while Paul had silently sprinted out of the alleyway while Arnold's girlfriend continued to cry out for her boyfriend to respond.</p><p>The ironic conversation before Arnold died was his girlfriend warning him to be careful wandering around late at night since the public was told that Todd may not be a potiential suspect for the murders happening around town. It made people understably upset since they felt like the police were purposefully slapping so the world's population could be knocked off. by a few numbers, well according to the theorists. Justice just wanted to be served at the end of the day, and more innocent young men are being paid for it. Everyone felt as if the Todd thing was just some sort of distraction since the real killer was nowhere to be found at the moment. </p><p>Paul breathlessly ran back to his car parked behind a closed automobile service building, getting into the front seat and immediately starting the car before beginning to pull off towards some other unknowing destination. It seems like whenever he shot donw the feelings of wanting to fuck John, he just grew abnormally triggered and he wants to kill every single man in his way. Now <em>that</em> was twenty-four, quick and fucking easy. Too easy for him, it left him <em>kind</em> of unsatisfied.</p><p>Paul drove, hand gripping the wheel, dark eyes following the pattern of the road instead of actually looking forward. There was something else in his head that riveted through his thoughts, all he wanted to do is just fuck John and maybe it could save someone's life. Paul semi jokingly figured that it would be able to spare someone's life, only that wasn't the legitimate case.  </p><p>Or a better thought, why not just finally kill John? What's with all of this holding back shit? Paul was feeling as if he was going crazy. The things that he was used to doing before striking his victims felt like they were slipping whenever he was around John, what was so sginifcant about him? Why did Paul feel so whipped for him? </p><p>God he just needed to go home. </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was snowing. Not light, but incredibly hard. John knew it was going to be this snowy since it felt warm for the last two days. There wasn't any idea how much snow would fall, but he assumed that it would be a lot since the warmth was gathering over the twenty four hour line. Shelby had mentioned something to him when John had came inside of the coffee shop, scarf wrapped around his neck, a cute hat snuggled endearingly on top of his head. "I think we might close early. Cynthia called out today, so it's just going to be you and Marline. Capeesh?" Shelby asked, a confirmation sent her way when John nodded his head with a soft 'capeesh' in response.</p><p>"Clean around the shop, you'll be in the back today mostly Johnny. Is that okay with you?"</p><p>John nodded his head again, unwrapping the scarf from around his neck as he began to stretch his arms over his head. Hopefully Stuart didn't cut his hair too short, that'd be something incredibly annoying for him to deal with since Stuart was not a professional hair stylist. John didn't even want a haircut, it was just given to him beyond circumstances and he felt like it was meaningless to disrupt Stuart anyways. John wondered what Paul would think of it, whether or not the man would like it or disapprove of it. John is in love with the way Paul cut his hair, so it should be fair enough that the younger would enjoy his new look as much as John enjoyed his. </p><p>Shelby excused John to the back of the coffee shop, spraying down the countertop to the register since she already had the cleaning supplies in her presence. John trotted towards the breakroom, shoving his stuff into one of the cubbies and grasping at some handsanitizer that rested on one of the tables. God, he hoped that Paul got one of his messages. As of now he hadn't gotten a response yet from him so who really knew besides Paul himself. </p><p>John sprayed himself down with Lysol, did the health check on the catalog, and then grasped at his apron which should be freshly washed over the night. Whilst he was checking out the rest of the health questions, doing his temperature check as well, Marline had walked inside of the break room looking unhealthily exhausted. To John, she looked emotionally wrecked and nauseously pale as if she witnessed something horrific, he was basically forced to ask: "Are you okay?" If he didn't he'd feel like he witnessed a murder and didn't do anything about it.</p><p>Marline halted her movements as she took off her jacket, her hair falling into her face as she snarled out. "Does it fucking <em>look</em> like I'm okay? Next time your <em>best friend</em> calls out, make sure she fucking tells somebody in advance because I had no other choice but to cover her today." </p><p>John's breath hitched, his defenses for Cynthia immediately growing. "Hey, it's not her fault! She's been really busy with her classes lately. We've <em>both</em> been -" </p><p>"Read the fucking room John. My boyfriend was -" She took a trembling breath as she sobbed out in pain, " - murdered last night, and I was on the phone with him while he was killed." Marline choked out while she trembled violently, her voice shaking as tears brimmed at her red eyes. John's own eyes widened, shock coating his face as Marline continued throughout her emotional breakdown. There was <em>no</em> way she was fit to work right now, or maybe not ever again. What was Shelby thinking? "I told that old bitch that too, and she doesn't give a fuck about that. All she cares about is you and Cyn, that's why after this shift? I'm fucking <em>done</em>." </p><p>John hurried towards her, enveloping the sobbing girl in his arms as she cried uncontrollably into his chest. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know. God - I didn't know." </p><p>Later on when Marline somewhat calmed down only a couple of minutes before the store actually opening, John had entered Shelby's office while he held hands with Marline who was still sniffling and trying to control her breaths. "I'll take over both shifts, but she can't work today Shelby. She lost someone last night, can't you see that?"</p><p>Shelby looked up from her paperwork, looking into John's stern eyes before tracing her gaze back over to Marline as the girl cried softly into her freehand. </p><p>"Marline," Shelby pathetically began, but the crying girl was already cutting her off. Marline let go of John's hand and crossed her arms over her chest, her personal body language on if she was feeling extremely anxious. "No, I don't want to hear this. I'm quitting. You are <em>so</em> fucked up. Thank you John, but Shelby and Cynthia can go to fucking hell." With that Marline had rushed out of the office, leaving John in a trail of dust as she made her way back into the breakroom to get her stuff. </p><p>"Well, if you want to work both shifts then you can Lennon." Shelby had nonchalantly said as if <em>that</em> didn't just happen, capturing John's attention. "It's going to be hard, but go ahead. You have to make sure everything is correctly stocked and then attend to the customers. I'll help you whenever I'm free from signing these leases." </p><p>John thought about what Marline said, not feeling comfortable with the favoritism. "Would you help anyone else if they ever had to take on two schedules?" He queried, his voice unbearably  soft but deliberately confronting to make sure Shelby knew how serious the question is. It's not something that she could just gloss over either, John is one of her best workers and lying to him would put a big chip in their relationship.</p><p>"Well, you - you're different John. You and Cynthia, like I said, are like children to me."</p><p>John had frowned at that, his eyebrows furrrowing and his stomach churning with unease at that answer. "That shouldn't be the case, you're my manager and I'm your employee." He said, leaving Shelby in a state of shock. "If you're going to treat me and Cyn with kindness then you should think about others too. Marline suffered a devastating loss last night, you calling her in is just selfish Shelby."</p><p>Shelby sighed through her nose, nodding her head slowly as she went to grasp at a pen and flip one of the pages in whatever she was signing her signature in. "My apologies John, I understand. I will contact Marline when I get the chance and send her my condolences as a sincere apology."</p><p>Should be expected, that's just human fucking decency. John was going to say that, but then his eyes caught onto the time and he realized that the store should be opened right now. So with no other words, John turned around, heading out of the office to make his way towards the front of the store to flip the sign on the window. Afterwards, John rushed to the cash register and opened the drawer to remove the key to the store from the slot, trekking back over towards the door to unlock it. Right now it seemed as if it were still early, and he hadn't expected for three customers to automatically open the door on him, barely hitting him in the face on their way in.</p><p>Meanwhile Paul had his arms crossed over his chest looking around the waiting room as his younger brother talked with the receptionist, Michael joyfully checking him in to the therapy office with a bright gleam in his eyes. Soon enough Paul felt an encouraging hand being placed upon his shoulder, it only took a couple of seconds for him to realize that it was Michael's hand, which caused him to immediately shrug it off of his shoulder. Michael sighed, "This is the office number. You get to have three hours max in there, so talk your head off." </p><p>"It should be <em>you</em> going in there instead, I'm perfectly fine." </p><p>Michael rolled his eyes, and lightly shoved Paul forwards which made the receptionist laugh at the brotherly behavior, very unknowing. Paul's anger suddenly flared, and he turned around fake laughing with the receptionist before pushing Michael back, literally almost sending Michael flying across the room with the strength of that push. Michael crashed onto the floor with a grunt of pain since he used his hands to try and catch himself, the receptionist's eyes widened as he stood up in his seat to rush over towards the fallen man, Paul on the other hand was already making his way towards the room of his new therapist. </p><p>Paul opened the door aggressively, walking in with a deadpanned look on his face, masking the raw irritation that scalded his headspace. In front of him sat his therapist, a woman, redhaired and pretty faced as she jumped a bit from the abrupt opening of her door. Quickly, she stood up with her notebook as Paul lazily kicked the door closed with his foot. "Hi! I'm Jane Asher, and you must be Paul McCartney? Or should I call you James?" </p><p>Paul hummed, skimming her body and settling on whether or not he should fuck her against that desk in the corner to ease his sexual frustration towards John until the time comes. "You can just call me Paul, I really don't care." </p><p>"Well if we're connecting on a deeper level, maybe I should use James. I really want to make sure that you're comfortable here." Jane had said, a soft smile on her face that Paul couldn't see because of the mask but he could see a friendly twinkle in her eyes that reminded him almost too much of John. "We don't have to immediately start on the deeper subjects, your brother told me that you're not really the talking type. So sit down for me, and I'm going to ask a little bit about you." </p><p>Paul obeyed despite himself, he walked over towards the large sofa and took a seat down, letting the warmness of the cushions settle into his chilly body. Jane moved some strands of hair behind her ear, sitting down on a much less comfortable looking chair right in front of Paul, crossing her legs while she whipped out the pencil to her notebook. "Mind telling me where you're from? When's your birthday, simple stuff like that? It could be one worded answers, I don't really care." Jane had giggled, making Paul exhale in thought. </p><p>"I'm from Liverpool, and I was born June 18th." Paul had answered, voice bland and purposely sounding bored while the girl scribbled down what was said to her. "Isn't this information already written down? Why are you asking me for it again?" </p><p>Jane blinked, and then she laughed nervously. "You have to start somewhere." </p><p> </p><p>John was at the front of the store, spraying and wiping down the table after a toddler threw up on it since the parents wanted to give the baby some coffee because they knew that the baby couldn't do anything about it. The man sighed in exhaustion, wiping at the sweat blanketing his forehead since Shelby turned the heat up to 90 degrees since it was a whopping freezing 12 degrees outside of the coffee shop.</p><p>Although it's only been three hours since he clocked in, running back and forth between the very backroom, to the front to make an order was extremely tiring. However his selflessness came first before complaining about it to Shelby, also because he didn't want an 'I told you so' moment to happen.</p><p>Soon enough, he froze up when he felt arms wrap around his waist, someone's chest pressing against his backside and his body being pulled back against a strangers. John let out a cute squeak as he felt someone kiss lightly at the sweaty skin of his neck, before a familiar voice snaked its way into his ear. "You can relax, it's only me." Although Paul was telling him to relax, John only grew more tense when the younger went back to kissing at his neck, while <em>he</em> was at work and the naughty hand going down to the front of John's trousers weren't helping either.</p><p>"Paul? Wait - hold on." John had breathed heavily, removing himself from the already loosened grip and whirling around to face Paul. "What are you doing here? I mean - I know what you're doing here but -" Paul had huffed, placing two fingers on top of John's lips to make the older man shut up before he said something even more stupid. John blinked up at him innocently, cheeks flushed a light pink from the heat of the coffee shop and the heat smoldering him when Paul was literally about to just - fucking shit - the thought of what could have happened made him hot all over. </p><p>"I've been thinking about you all morning, all last night up until now." Paul shivered, not being able to keep his hands off of John since the older was basically pressed against him. "Do you have some type of room where there's no cameras or anything?" </p><p>John was so naive, "The break room has no cameras. I'm the only worker here at the moment so it's just me in there usually. There isn't really cameras anywhere so -" He was cut off when Paul had suddenly yanked him by his arm, causing John to stumble forward as they neared the breakroom. Ignoring the employees only, Paul had opened the door to the room before pulling John in after him almost tossing the man on one of the tables from how strong his grip on him had been at that second. "Paul? What the - are you mad at me or something? What are you doing?" John asked, genuinely wondering why he was being thrown around like this as Paul made sure the door was closed and locked behind him. </p><p>Paul turned to him, something devilish in his eyes that made John's breath hitch lightly in his throat. It only took a mere couple of seconds for Paul to rush over towards him in one short stride, ripping off both of their masks, and encasing John against the table as his lips violently attacked the older's. John's breath was ripped from his mouth, feeling his apron loosen from around his waist as Paul's tongue fucked its way into his mouth, and good lord the auburn haired man did not know what to do with himself. John's hands tried to grapple at Paul, but it seemed as if the younger was too possessed with whatever-the-fuck to let John have an ounce of control in something pertaining to what was happening. </p><p>Paul lifted John up onto the table, pulled away and licked at his lips as he undid the older's fly while John tried to capture his breath. "God just let me fuck you. I <em>need</em> to fuck you." </p><p>"Paul," John whined out in sudden desperation, bucking his hips up against the threatening hands that cupped at his growing cock through his briefs. Fuck he hadn't been felt up like this in long while, and it happening at work only made his skin more <em>hot</em>. "I don't think we can - not here, my manager might walk in." Surprising himself with how steady his voice seemed, if you take away the slight tremor in his tone then yeah, his voice was pretty solid. </p><p>Paul leveled his own breathing, hands shaking as he forced himself to hear John out. "When?" Was all that came out, and when it did, his voice sounded unbelievably hoarse which had caused John to elicit a whimper. After not getting an answer, Paul's hand shifted against John's buldge causing the older to gasp out, squirming on top of the table as he was getting jerked relentlessly. "Answer me baby, I just asked you a question. Do you want to make a mess all over yourself at work? What would your manager think?" </p><p>John mewled out shakily, reaching up to grasp at Paul's biceps, legs falling opened even wider around the younger's waist. "I- I-" John was becoming overwhelmed, the suction of Paul's hand wrapped his cock amazingly, he could barely even feel the feeling of Paul's hand traveling its way up and underneath his shirt. Paul leaning into the plant certain, encouraging kisses along John's cheek and jawline while the other man moaned softly into his ear before attempting to make out a sentence to respond to the question. </p><p>"You could c-come over, and then we could -" John had to capture himself because his words were stammering, cheeks flushed and his brown eyes twinkling delightfully with the most brilliant spell of lustfulness. Paul had stroked him slowly in hypnotic twists, smirking in triumph as John stuttered pathetically, looking as if he was near tears from the stimulation. "- we could finish this. All the way." </p><p>"When do you get off of work today?" Paul questioned, color flowing back into his eyes, reluctantly removing his hand from John's straining dick, zeroing his hearing in at the sound of the quiet whine that exited through the older's lips. </p><p>"I'm closing. So around seven thirty or later if everything is cleaned up." John had replied, causing Paul's blood to boil but the younger kept a neutral look on his face, said nothing more than what he wanted to be said. "I'm sorry." John murmured afterwards, catching Paul completely off gaurd since it was said out of nowhere, before Paul could reply, John continued with a gentle voice. "I know you really wanted to do it here but I'm just really busy, and it's been a really long morning."</p><p>"John, baby." Paul said breathlessly, watching John's eyes blink up at him as he caressed the man's cheek with his hand. "Where ever you're comfortable with, I can deal with it. I just need to have you soon." </p><p>---</p><p>"Ringoooo!" George blabbered, hands cupping his mouth as he roamed around the workplace, he was on his break and feeling bored as God knows what. Richard came into view after a couple of seconds of George waiting, stacking books up on some type of wagon as his blue eyes met George's brown ones. "There you are. I have to question you for advice." </p><p>Richard blinked his blue eyes roamed over the bored expression that George had on, wondering what exactly George had in mind for them to talk about. "What's going on?"</p><p>"So let's say your best friend for like - a big chunk of your life ends up getting a significant other and you end up being pushed to the side, how do you handle it?" George asked, halfway joking and halfway serious since he really did not know how to deal with himself right now. George was happy for Paul, truthfully, but something felt so off with him suddenly getting with John. George couldn't really picture Paul in a relationship with someone, he could hardly be present in his friendship with George so what exactly made John an exception? Paul's has been acting so weird over the past year. </p><p>"I don't know, I haven't been in that situation before. I guess you could still stick around whenever you feel like its necessary." Richard had said before stacking the books on one of the shelves, shrugging his shoulders as George knawed uneasily at his cheek awaiting some type of confirmation that it is what it is and Richard's take on it is absolutely valid. </p><p>"I'm just asking because Paul likes this coffee shop worker, and I mean - I could understand why, the guy is cute, he seems friendly. I just find it out of character for him, he's so remote and isolated all of the time so him getting into a relationsip is surprising." George had added, crossing his arms over his chest as he squinted his eyes down at the floor while his mind continued to race on with thoughts to confide to. </p><p>Richard paused his book stacking after sorting everything out correctly, leaving the books that don't belong there left stacked on top of each other on the wagon and then cleared his throat before straight up asking: "Do you think Paul is capable of killing somebody?" </p><p>George staggered back, looking genuinely horrified at the question as Richard stared at him with a blank face, expecting the answer from George as if what he asked wasn't a controversial question. "No he's not -" George blinked as he stopped himself from hurriedly answering that question, thinking back to Paul's violent past and the strength he gained from fighting everyone back at school. "Well he can really hurt somebody, but I don't think that he can actually kill somebody. Paul's not - Richard don't do this." </p><p>Richard made a noise, cheeks flushing as he looked away from an extremely uncomfortable George in some type of feeling related to guilt. "Sorry, it's just that - if he seems that unusual to you lately then maybe it's something you should suspect. There's not really any leads right -"</p><p>"Paul is my best friend. Don't you ever try to pin something as heinous as murdering people against him, you don't even <em>know</em> him." George had snarled out, using a specific tone of voice that he never used with Richard before. "I can't believe you would even ask me that."</p><p>Richard looked downcast, unsure of whether or not he should apologize since the damage seemed to look as if it had been done already. "I didn't mean to upset you, it's just every time you bring up Paul, you just provide this description of him being cold and distant from you. You even called me to say that he hasn't been answering his phone, it just seems a bit weird to me." </p><p>"Well you should know that Paul wouldn’t kill anyone. If you suspect him for doing it without even really getting to know him you're a disgusting person." George had said, defending his best friend while Richard just distantly stared on with a bleary look in his ocean colored eyes. </p><p>"Tell me George," The shorter man began, his voice quiet and crippling, George's facial expression had softened as Richard continued with a soft voice.  "Do you, yourself, <em>really</em> know Paul anymore? Since you're always telling me that he acts like a different person, it seems like you don't know him as much as <em>I</em> don't know him either."</p><p>George stared at Richard, eyebrows furrowed, stomach flipping when those words began to settle into his brain as he backed away from the older man in subtle unsettlement. "I'm - I think I'm going to go home." He muttered, hugging himself while he shivered, turning to rush out of Ringo's presence to head into the breakroom to get his stuff and clock out before his manager could call him for something. God what the fuck? All he asked was for Richard to give him advice and that's the response he gets? That's so - out of fucking nowhere. </p><p>Meanwhile as the day began to succumb into the late afternoon, Paul was sitting in his car with the windows tinted, but nothing suspicious being done besides him smoking a cigarette which was rare. Paul told John to come directly to his car so that Paul could drive him home, and John was definitely not going to say no. To be frank, Paul had no idea what he was going to do to that man when he got his hands back on him again - it was not going to be tied in with choking John to death though. All Paul wanted to do was fuck him, hard and <em>bad</em>. </p><p>That was not the only thought that coursed through his mind though, another thought was when he killed that guy in the alley way. Paul couldn't seem to fucking remember it, maybe John had him so heated, he blacked out and went to go kill the first guy that came to his field of vision. What really freaked him out is that he hadn't even remembered doing it. He could've really slipped up and killed somebody with a lot of supervision, what if he blacked out and ended up killing John himself? Paul took another drag of his cigarette, scratching at the leather of his geer shift to regather himself, Jesus he was not about to slip into the temptations of rushing back into the coffee shop and heaving John over his shoulder to take him home. </p><p>John was finishing up adjusting all of the coffee cups, the tops, and the straws after pulling an appropriate amount out of the box onto the holders while exhaling tiredly. Afterwards, he lifted the box up and went back into the backroom to set the box down along with the others, shivering as the door to the outside was still opened due to their truck driver being a piss stain. John was feeling dizzy to say the least, not even functioning right with what was planned for him later on tonight, plus all that had happened in the breakroom. Paul was driving him nuts, and he wasn't even here anymore as far John knew, hell he might've still been here in one of the cars but John was too nervous to look. </p><p>John heaved one of the heavier boxes back into the truck, not wearing the proper attire for being out in the freezing cold like this, despite being hot in the coffee shop. The truck driver stared at him in amusement, listening in on the little noises John would make as he eventually set the box back down onto the truck. Leaning off of the step, and holding onto the bar that he'd grab whenever he stepped off or stepped foot onto the truck, the man began to talk with a bit of humor in his voice. "Look at you Johnny, doing the harder work. Is it only you that clocked in today? Everyone else didn't want to drive all the way here in the snow." </p><p>"Yes, it's just me. I can handle it though." John had said shakily, breath ghosting into the crisp air as droplets of snow continued to fall on both of them. The truck driver shook his head at the statement, chuckling softly under his breath while he reached into the front seat, grasping at a heavy jacket with the coffee shop logo that he hadn't used yet. </p><p>"You're not going to last long out here just wearing that shirt and an apron, here put this on whenever you need to come out here." </p><p>Paul's hazel eyes enveloped the interaction between John and the truck driver, watching as John with his shivering figure had accepted the jacket hesitantly. The younger continued to smoke the cigarette with much more ascertainment, narrowing his eyes as John put on the jacket stiffly, causing the truck driver to scoff and help the auburn haired man put the jacket all the way on. Paul felt something unhealthily possessive flare a little in his abdomen when the truck driver had ruffled John's hair afterwards, and patted his back before heading back to the front seat while John went to close the backdoors to the truck. </p><p>It was something about John wearing a large jacket that wasn't his which had sleeves flowing down to overpass his hands, the pretty flush of his cheeks from the freezing cold, and the light snow in his hair that made Paul elicit a soft sigh that resembled a moan. God, the man looked so <em>gorgeous</em>, and it was taking a toll on Paul the more he'd have to wait for the older. </p><p>Paul also wants John to take that jacket off even though it looks good on him, that trucker gave it to him and - who the fuck gave that trucker the right to put a jacket on John? Let the man freeze to death if it meant him not having to wear your shit. Soon enough the cigarette was short, and Paul threw it out onto the snow as he exhaled through his mouth, still staring at his rearview mirror to see John wrap some chains around the handles of the doors that open the back of the truck. Paul imagined seeing chains wrapped around John's skin, digging into the soft flesh while Paul fucked him apart so hard all John could do is lay there and take it. </p><p>For some reason, Paul once to claim him as his, and he felt nauseous on doing that because that also meant something else. It means him wanting to keep John alive, and making John his forever which was kind of not normal for him to think about. </p><p> </p><p>When 7:20 dawned, John clocked out, the big jacket still on him since he'd have to go outside anyways, his tiredness was making him a bit staggered as he walked out to the front while rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. </p><p>Shelby wished him a goodbye, something John was too tired to respond to but she understood that her star worker was incredibly exhausted from having to run around the store all the day from eight in the morning to seven at night. At least its extra money, and payday was tomorrrow so it was worth it somewhat? According to Shelby, it was definitely worth it.</p><p>Paul was resting by the door outside, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes melted onto the snowy ground, the cold was bugging him but not that much since it was replaced from the natural heat of being sexually driven. John's eyes widened a bit when Paul had coincidentally looked up from the ground, meeting his gaze with a much more humane look in his eyes unlike the arousing one he wore on earlier when both of them were about to fuck in the breakroom. Oh, yes, <em>that</em> was going to happen. If John wasn't feeling extremely tired already then he certainly is going to be whenever what was done is done, there's no doubt about that. </p><p>John opened the door, trusting Shelby to lock it up whenever she leaves the office. Paul's eyes followed John, glancing at the jacket and then back up at John while he asked in a gentle voice: "Are you ready to go home? Or do you want to stop somewhere and get something first?" </p><p>John blushed, and pulled the jacket close to him when a brutally cold breeze whisked by. "Can we um - stop by a store to get some condoms first?" He asked shyly, which made a soft laugh escape from Paul as he slung his arm around John's waist possesively so they could start heading to his car.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Paul! Do you want to play chess with us?"</p><p>Paul sighed inwardly in frustration, ignoring the other patients as he continued to draw in his notebook, he was almost finished with this character. If he had any other disruptions then he'd be completely thrown off and there was a lack of attention span in him to redo everything all over again, but the chances of that happening were big since he was in the building cafeteria. Plus, Paul didn't know how to play chess and trying to figure it out seemed like nothing but a waste of time for him since he's already packed the journal up with different drawings.</p><p> Of course, he hadn't drawn much ever since he was in school, George made it easier since the kid was an art freak himself.  </p><p>Much to Paul's dismay, there was another disruption that caught him off guard making him look over towards Matt and Paul's therapist. "Hi Paul, I came here to ask you some questions. Do you mind coming with me into your room? It's very important for your health." Said his therapist, causing Paul to chew in annoyance at the inside of his cheek and place his pencil down slowly, moving off of his chair he looked up at Matt, his gaze looking questioning, but Matt  smiled in reassurance at the boy which made Paul relax a little. </p><p>Paul followed the therapist into his room, quiet and taut as he immediately beelined for his bed, climbing into it as his therapist softly closed the door behind them. "Alright, since this is the age where sex ed should usually be taught to you already, I just want to make sure you know all of everything when it comes to making love with someone." </p><p>Paul recoiled, but kept listening anyways, grasping at his pillow to hold it close to his chest since this topic made him feel relatively uncomfortable. The only reason why they brought it up was because Paul was doing every other summer school subject, finishing the work and then handing it in to the school supervisor but he wasn't doing any of the sex-ed work assigned to him. If anything he was failing in that class, Paul just felt uncomfortable to do any of the sex assigned work because of a lot of things - he hadn't really want to go that deep in realm of relationships. The sex part. </p><p>"Your sex-ed teacher is wondering if you understand the dynamics of sex, and it's okay if you do but you need to confirm that you know it by doing the school work." His therapist continued, pressing his lips together in a tight and awkward smile. </p><p>"Sex is when you fuck somebody." Paul spat out, his voice blunt and muffled by the pillow. His therapist sighed, tapping the pen against his clipboard while the boy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Does she think I'm an idiot?"</p><p>"Paul, no, she does not think you're stupid. And 'fuck' is just another word used for sex, but do you actually know the process and emotional build up? What about everything that comes afterwards? That's what your classwork is asking." His therapist explained to him in a relatively calm voice as the teenager only buried his face into his pillow, groaning in second hand embrassment at how fucking ridiculous this conversation seemed. </p><p>"I don't care, why does it matter?" Paul grumbled, lifting his face up from the pillow while he frowned. "It's not like I'm going to be going around and having sex with people." </p><p>"Okay, well then let's just throw the sex talk out the window for now then." His therapist replied, eyebrow twitching in growing irritation towards the teenager while he flipped the paper up on the clipboard, skimming his eyes over all of the vocabulary words, and sections of sex-ed that Paul needed to make up. "Let's start on puberty, it seems like you're going through that process right now since I keep getting this back talk."</p><p>Paul's got flustered, his voice lowering: "I'm not going through puberty you weirdo." </p><p>"Yes you are, it usually happens around your age. I wouldn't say that it justifies your temper, and violence but it provokes a lot of emotions in a young boy. Your testosterone kicks in, your voice deepens, and you'll start wanting to be in a relationship." </p><p>This can not be happening right now. Paul began to cover his ears, rolling his eyes while his therapist continued to explain what he's currently going through. Soon enough, his therapist was sitting right next to him and after a couple of minutes of literal wrestling, his hands were confined in a tight thick string. Already knowing how on edge Paul could be whenever he's tied up, his therapist reminded him soothingly that this was going to be over before the both of them knew it. "Now if you keep struggling, the string will get tighter and we're both going to sit in this room for hours while I talk about the s word." </p><p>"I'll do the fucking school work, just let me go!" Paul had demanded, his voice trembling as he continued to struggle against the tight string. "Oh, I'm going to fucking break your neck when I get out of this stupid fucking -" </p><p>"Masturbation!" His therapist suddenly shouted, causing Paul to still up in complete silence from the loud booming voice and bring his wrists up to the string so that he could bite at it. "Is the stimulation of the genitals with a hand, mostly used for sexual pleasure. For women, they usually stimulate their clitorus and use their fingers to you know, finger themselves, there is a spot located inside of their vagina -"</p><p>Paul had let out a overexaggerated groan, "God! I know already! Please don't tell me!" </p><p>"For men, they use their hands to stroke their penises until -" Paul released another groan, this time resembling a scream in which Matt bursted in the room with a look of concern on his face. The man was already pacing around the door when he heard the sound of Paul already struggling against his therapist, it sounded like they were fighting until there were sounds of them calmly talking to each other, then there was the demand that came from Paul on his therapist letting him go. The possibility of him being tied up by something began to grow inside of Matt's head, and he was dependent on bursting in whenever there was another cry out from the younger boy inside of the room.  </p><p>"What's going on in here? Why do you have him tied up? Paul doesn't like that. I thought you were just going to talk to him." Matt said, rushing over to Paul to sit the boy up and immediately try to loosen the string wrapped around his wrist as his therapist sucked his teeth, shaking his head in dismay from how Matt enabled Paul. "Why were you shouting about masturbation too? Is um - is everything okay in here?"</p><p>"Matt, he's trying to sex talk me." Paul snarled, eyeing his therapist with a semi genuine murderous look in his eyes. "I already know what sex is and stuff but he's trying to reexplain it to me like I'm fucking stupid. I'm fifteen, I know what everything is, I just don't like to talk about it."</p><p>Matt looked at the therapist, a firm look on his face as he reitterated what Paul had said. "Paul already knows about everything, he just doesn't - he's not worried about all of that at the moment. Paul will figure that whole thing out when he wants to." </p><p>His therapist sighed in annoyance, watching on as Matt parently caressed Paul's wrist to make sure there was no rashes on it for being tied up. "Well, fine then. But he needs to turn all of these assignments in because it'd be hell if he would have to repeat." Paul looked away, face red with exertion and anger as he snatched his wrists away from Matt, crossing his arms over his chest while silently fuming.</p><p>--</p><p>John barely made it into his bedroom with two of his feet still on the floor, he let out a high gasp when his back collided with the soft texture of his bed, bag of the store bought stuff flying to the other side of the bed. Another gasp rippled through him when Paul ruthlessly removed his shoes off of his feet. John sat up on his elbows, eyes widened and cheeks red from the chilling cold along with the spiral of heat that soared throughout his frame when Paul was suddenly hovering over him. Paul pressed his palm down on John's chest, easily forcing the older back down onto the bed with a soft thud as he quickly straddled John's hips, the speediness younger's face suspended above his causing a whisk of wind to brush against John's body. </p><p>The older's eyes fluttered, a sharp breath intake immersed as a ridiculously hot smirk spurred its way delicately across Paul's face causing John's breath to catch in his throat. "Fuck," John muttered under his breath, when Paul's fingertips finally traced at the softness of his cheek, down to his jawline and neck with so much tension. </p><p>Paul leaned down, their chests pressed together slightly as his lips began to attack the crevice of John's neck, tongue brushing against the salty sweet skin of his neck as John's breath stuttered softly from the feeling. When John moved his head back to give the younger more access, Paul had almost lost all of his senses as his teeth began to dive into John's skin, causing the man to squirm and cry out softly from the small fraction of pain. Licking the spot in apology, and peppering sweet kisses from his neck all the way up to his cheek in advance, Paul whispered something downright <em>sinful</em> into John's ear that caused the older's eyes to fly open in shocked arousal. </p><p>Before John could react, Paul was off of him much to his dislike, and his face was suddenly buried into the pillows while two hands basically yanked his trousers off. Holy - John didn't even notice Paul undoing his pants while he was suckling desperately at his neck, it all felt so goddamn good at that moment, his mind had been raising hell. John whined lightly into the pillow, his eyes closing tightly as Paul mounted himself behind the older, a dominant hand pressing down on his back which caused John's back to arch magnificently. </p><p>"You look so pretty." Paul breathily muttered, an unrecognizable haze over his pretty eyes as he sucked in a sharp breath from the need washing over him, rolling John shirt up his back to feel at the soft and warm skin with his cold hands. </p><p>John's body jerked form the coldness of Paul's touch, both of his hands digging into the sheets as Paul's hands ventured to the underside of him, playing coquettishly with his chesy as John elicited a soft whimper into the pillow. "Oh," He murmured brokenly, lifting his face up off of the pillow and resting his cheek on it instead. "Paul, <em>please</em> -" </p><p>Paul yanked John up as the older stammered in midsentence, the sudden movement making John cutely scramble for something to hold onto since everything was happening too fast. Paul had hooked John's shirt up and over his head, resisting the urge to sniff the shirt before throwing it across the room, rougly twisting John's body around so that the man was facing him again. John's breath hitched, not doing much of anything about him being manhandled since Paul had immediately dived in to kiss the look of pleasant surprise off his face, his tongue delving passionately inside of his mouth which caused both of them to tremble against each other. </p><p>Shyly, John's hands fluttered to the hem of Paul's own shirt, tugging at it with an adorable determination of heaving the shirt over the younger's head which had captured Paul's divided attention. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Paul had pulled away after a couple of seconds, letting John take his shirt off in a more slower method since the older seemed to be much more dazed than Paul when it came to what was unfolding. Paul noticed how much John's hands were trembling, and he couldn't help but to grasp at them with his own, pulling the other's hands to his lips to kiss gently at each of his knuckles in a way to make him momentarily relax before Paul took him apart. John shivered from the sudden intimacy, blushing mindlessly, and growing much more bashful as Paul went to take his own shirt off so that John wouldn't have to do it. </p><p>John's eyes skimmed over Paul's frame, too distracted to notice Paul undoing the front of his own pants as he took in the years of what beating people up (and murdering them) could do to a person. John's breathing picked up in excitement, and within no time he was plopped down onto the bed with his boxers brushing down his legs with Paul slotting himself between them with a sly smirk on his face. "God <em>look</em> at you." Paul had said to him with an involuntary rumble in his voice, enjoying the small sound John made from just four simple words that didn't really mean anything explicit.</p><p> Paul reached over to the bag, removing the newly bought lubricant and the box of condoms. John let out gentle sounds in the meantime as he panted against the sheets, soft moans releasing from his lips as Paul's palm gingerly stroked his leaking shaft while he popped the cap opened, with the use of his other hand. "Do we really need to use this? You're already so wet for me."</p><p>John's back arched a little bit off of the bed from the sound of the cap rattling onto the floor, his eyes closing tightly as he withered around desperately from the teasing stimulation. "Paul, please, I- I- can you j-just -" He stammered meaninglessly, his hips bucking up into Paul's hand before the stimulation was stripped away for Paul to squirt some lubricant onto his fingers. Paul placed the bottle of lubricant to the side, and sat up on his knees as his other hand grabbed at one of John's legs to heave it up to his chest which caused the older to cry out from the vulgar position. </p><p>Just like his visions, Paul was ruthless and merciless as he slowly fucked two of  his fingers inside of John. Already familiar with finding a man's prostate, the ease of him fingering John was so fascinating to him, holding the man's legs opened as John welcomed in the sensational intrusion after a couple of seconds of being tense to a point where Paul couldn't do anything but squeeze gingerly at John's thigh. John's lips were parted to let out heavy breaths, back bowed and his body trembling and sweating each time Paul stroked his fingers against the lump of sensitive nerves inside of the older. "Fuck, it feels so -" John breathily began, being interrupted by his own cut-off gasp when Paul curled his fingers, his head lolled against his pillow, fully erected dick twitching and drizzling against his stomach. </p><p>"You look so gorgeous like this, you're so hard for me baby. So thick, wet, and long." Paul droned on, his voice having some type of tremor included in its tone as he talked to John, just fucking babbling on as the older fell apart underneath his touch. </p><p>"Paul," John gasped out in the haze of genuine pleasure, face flushing at the words. Paul heard his tone, slowing down his ministrations to give all of his attention to the older man. "Can you- I want to touch you too." John had sighed out, his voice soft and the body language making him seem more shy than he already had been.</p><p>"You will soon." Paul said to him, making John's eyes light up. "But not right now baby. Turn around for me." </p><p>John blinked, and whined out but he obeyed nontheless, turning around on his front again as Paul stepped off of the bed to undo his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. Paul's eyes were on the prize, John's knees being dug into the mattress and his back slightly arched provided a clear eyed view of his sweet little opening that made the younger's tongue dart out to lick his lips. Soon enough when his pants were off which had left the both of them completely naked, he was back on the bed, a lazy hand coating his straining cock with lubricant after slapping a condom on while John swayed his hips from the nerves rushing through him as he waited for Paul to do something. </p><p>Paul thought that John was just being a tease at this point, but he did figure that the older was a bit nervous so he'd go slow. The fact of him actually having John like this felt too good to be true, but Paul already knew that it would happen in no time. It's not that he's narcissistic, but things just easily fell onto his lap like that, only within a span of the same day or a couple of days like John. </p><p>As Paul finally lined up with the older, slowly beginning to ease himself inside of John, he let his eyes flutter closed in fucking <em>bliss</em> as John's breath hitched lightly against the pillow whilst his hands squeezed and gripped at the sheets. "Fuck." Paul exhaled, taking in the way John trembled and panted against his pillow while his ass clenched around the cock inside of him.</p><p>"God." John's voice came out wobbly, his hips jutting up and down a little bit as he desperately tried to bottom out. "Paul - <em>fuck</em> oh my God." He shakingly breathed with a sharp hiss in his voice, feeling extremely  overwhelmed even when Paul hadn't done anything significant yet besides tighten his grip on John's waist to a point his handprints would be left there. </p><p>"Hm?" Paul thrusted in experimentally, and John went crazy as he yelped out, tensing up when a tsunami of pleasure enveloped him almost automatically. "You sound so pretty." Paul had said, continuing to thrust in when he triggered <em>that</em> reaction out of the older, it was all he needed to know that the man was ready. </p><p>John moaned out in a broken voice as he buried his face into the pillow, not being able to keep it down as Paul immediately picked up his insanely stamina influenced rthymn that would drive all of his other partners up the wall. However, Paul was a bit sloppy with his pace since John squeezed around him so fucking satisfyingly. </p><p>"Oh <em>shit</em>," John babbled unashamedly, as Paul huffed breathily and hoisted John's hips up to bounce the older on his cock each time he thrusted forward. All John could do is let himself be fucked, rubbing against the sheets as his cock dripped with self lubrication, slapping against his stomach while Paul ruthlessly fucked him from behind. "Paul, Paul, Paul - <em>faster</em> please." </p><p>Paul couldn't hide the soft sounds that escaped his lips as he sped up, John's ass hugging his dick time and time again whenever he slid out, then back in. This is exactly what he'd imagine the man to feel like, and he wanted to more but there was a lot of things that are being an obstacle right now. </p><p>Digging his nails into John's soft skin, Paul packed in a particular hard thrust that sent John gasping, crashing down onto the bed since his legs had given out from the pleasure wrapping around his body like a venomous cobra. </p><p>Paul had breathed heavily, pulling out of John while the older shuddered and sobbed gorgeously as he was being turned around again. "Crying?" Paul had questioned, his voice attractively breathless as he jerked John's body towards him by his two legs, hooking them onto his shoulder while John immediately grasped at the sheets again, using them as reigns. "First time I fuck you senseless and you're already crying for me. Is it that good baby?" </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>John's breathing sped up as his arm went to go and cover his flustered face, body twitching in warmth as the words drifted rent free in his head. Jesus he hadn't known to get so fucking turned on from dirty talking, but the way Paul just speaks - it's so endearing and John couldn't help but to mewl softly at it. "Shut up."  Was all that he could conjure through a cut off moan as the younger began to fuck himself inside of him again, his eyes covered by his forearm so that he wouldn't see the sadistic smirk sheltered on Paul's face. </p><p>Paul's hand ran down John's legs to his waist as he rammed his cock inside of him, turning his head to kiss 'lovingly' at the older's calf while holding him still. John's teeth gritted, gentle cries exiting his lips and chants of Paul's name while his body rubbed vigorously against the sheets in time with Paul's thunderous pace.</p><p> "Paul, I -" John removed his arm, breath hitching up and up in pitch as he tried to move his legs away when the stimulation became too sensational like how'd it be when he's close. "I'm gonna - w-wait!" He squeaked, following up with a handful of whimpers and whines as he unintetionally clenched around Paul's cock, his legs trembling as his cock began to spurt out ropes of cum onto his stomach. </p><p>Paul moaned softly, hips stuttering a little as John suddenly came - untouched. </p><p>"Fuck." Paul had groaned, moving a hand of John's hips to grasp at the older's sensitive cock and give it a couple of strokes as John jolted, crying out gorgeously from the aftershocks. What he did next was something he did on mental autopilot, removing John's shaking legs from his shoulders and barreling down on the older to kiss his quivering lips as John breaths came out erractic since Paul was still grinding into him in a slower pace. John immediately wrapped his arms around Paul's neck, lips parting opened as Paul gently soothed his tongue over John's while moaning gently into his mouth. </p><p>John, much to his worn out body, moved his hips in time with Paul's, clenching around him at the right time which made the younger tremble delicately against him. Paul withdrew from the kiss, blinking at John as the older looked up at him with gorgeous, teary brown eyes, exchanging a silent permission before Paul had dipped his head into the crook of John's neck eating at his skin with his lips. John hissed quietly against Paul's skin, holding onto him as the man sped up to chase his own impending orgasm -  the sounds of Paul moaning occasionally into his neck nearly made him cum again. </p><p>Paul's breath stuttered, a light sound escaping his mouth, making its way into John's ear while his hips jutted uncontrollably until he finally pressed up against John's bottom as he released himself into the condom with a tremor coursing throughout his body. John gasped lightly, eyes fluttering when he felt butterflies take off in his stomach as Paul kissed gently at his cheek, his hands suddenly finding its way into Paul's raven colored hair as the younger sighed in content after a few seconds. </p><p>Paul came back to himself, no longer on autopilot when he silently peeled himself away from John and pulled out of him at the same time. John shivered a little, blinking purely at the younger while his mind began to race at Paul's lingering silence. "Was I good?" </p><p>"John, you were lovely baby." Paul replied, drinking in the sight of John blushing shyly. "Do you work tomorrow?" He asked afterwards, raising a brow at the older when John looked as if he was thinking about it.</p><p>"Yes, but it's from 8 in the morning until 12, which means I get off early. Why?" </p><p>"Just asking." Paul replied, a small smile on his face as John nodded his head, still narrowing his eyes in playful suspicion at the younger man. "I might come around tomorrow, and I may or may not be with my friend. Who really knows."</p><p>John's eyes lit up, a tingle shooting through his body. "Oh okay." He smiled, looking at Paul with adoration as the younger slipped off the condom to go and tie it up, John stayed on the bed though because he wasn't entirely sure on whether or not if he could move. "Paul?"</p><p>Paul glanced over at John, "Yes?"</p><p>"I really like you." John professed, something deeper sheltered in his voice that Paul caught onto but he couldn't really mentally grasp it. It only got even deeper when John added on with a much more shy sounding tone to his voice. "Like I really <em>really</em> like you." </p><p>Paul tensed up and felt his cheeks beginning to redden, <em>here we go</em>, that dumb feeling that really hadn't involved him wanting to brutally fuck John. It's the feeling that made him feel like he was on autopilot, uncontrolling of his actions and all - it was strange to him, but the way John's voice converged so much emotion in it when he said those four simple words. Paul knew that he'd fall too deep if he ever - "I really like you too." Oh my God. </p><p>John had bite his bottom lip to usher the growing smile away, too gassed up in the head to live this achievement down. "Paul, can you carry me to the bathroom? You kinda -"</p><p>"Oh! Yes, right." </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so like this story is about to take a turn? ig idk how true that statement is, but ig it's going to be building up in a way? not a healthy way? haha?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You know what Paul? I think I'm slowly piecing it all together." George had grunted out, launching his foot down to propel the shovel deeper into the thick wad of snow on the walkway to his flat. "Our numbers in Liverpool have gone up incredibly, and you know what I think? It's all some big conspiracy theory. I'm not saying that covid is fake - I think that the shit happening around the world lately may contribute to covid." </p><p>Paul blinked at George wearing on a sympathetic look from how idiotic he thought his best friend had sounded, momentarily stopping the action of sprinkling snow salt all over the uncovered ground that George already shoveled through. "Are you really getting into that shit? There's no inside job about this, quit it while you're still ahead." </p><p>George scoffed, and stopped his shoveling, cheeks shadded pink as well as the tip of his nose from the cold. "You've been an ass to deal with all morning." </p><p>"No, I just don't have the patience to deal with your stupid covid theories. Any of your theories to be exact." </p><p>George grumbled something under his breath, letting go of his shovel to lean down and grab a handful of snow into his thick gloves, balling the snow up onto a little ball while Paul went back to salting the grounds. As George was making his snowball, Paul reached into his coat pocket and checked his phone to see what time it was. Well he got that, and a message from John that he seemed a bit nervous to open up - but he wouldn't admit that he was nervous, maybe it was the jitters but not nervousness. Paul swiped, took a careless glimpse at his news feed to see headlines of Arnold's death that made him almost emit a snicker but then there was even more headlines of covid cases spreading around. </p><p>As he skimmed through the article, he felt something splash against the back of his head which caused him to gasp out, the matter of whatever it was seemed extremely cold and appearing to be white. George laughed behind him, doubling over as Paul turned around on his heel to stare blankly at his hysterical friend. "You throw snowballs at me, but when I shovel snow down your jacket you're near tears." Paul had calmly said with a challenge in his voice, turning his phone off and putting it into his pocket before heading to construct his own snowball. </p><p>"Because! It's different than being thrown snowballs! My clothes get all wet and stuff!" George complained, backing up with a childlike gleam in his eyes as Paul began to near him with a snowball in his palm. "Wait! Stop!" George squealed, beginning to run away unbalanced from the ice on the ground but he was too determined to not get pelted with a snowball to care. </p><p>Half an hour later, the two went inside George's flat, Paul carrying the younger man on his back since George slipped and fell on his ass while chasing Paul. "My butt hurts, ow." George had mumbled, while Paul gently set the younger down with some type of deadpanned expression of amusement on his face. "Can you give me like a heating pad or something?"</p><p>Paul sighed, and helped the younger man settle onto the couch, catching onto the small little wince. "You're so needy when you hurt yourself. Do you even <em>have</em> a heating pad?" </p><p>"No, but like - can you go to the store and get one for me? You have nothing else to do." George whined, before furrowing his eyebrows when Paul shook his head at him with a unmoved look in his face. To anyone else, that would be the ultimate give up but George was not about to give up because he was stubborn. "Come on, <em>please</em>? You can take my wallet." </p><p>"Fine, just shut up already." </p><p>"Yay! I love you!" </p><p>-</p><p>"Seriously, I'm going to fucking snap on this professor." Cynthia complained with an irritated voice and aura, making Stuart playfully roll his eyes with an amused smirk on his face as the two of them entered the coffee shop. "Just assigning so much shit as if people don't have any lives besides doing school work. Pissing me the fuck off, my God." </p><p>"You can't just walk in here in a bad mood Cyn, you're going to scare away everyone." Stuart replied, making his way over towards one of the tables as Cynthia went to flick him off before escaping to the breakroom with a small scowl on her pretty face. There were chances of Shelby complaining about how the store wasn't officially opened yet and that there shouldn't be anyone else but the associates that worked in the shop. However, the rules were loose when it came to Cynthia and John anyways so they'd bend the ooppurtunity whenever it was in their faces. </p><p>As the girl walked into the breakroom, she was surprisingly greeted by John panting, flustered and trembling against one of the tables as he leaned against it. Cynthia stared at him, a stunned silence creeping up on her while she stared at her friend in confusion from how he looked right up until John finally noticed her presence. "Hi! Good morning Cyn." John greeted, sounding embarassed as he pushed himself off of the table with a cute wave while he waddled to the snack rack to get some nutrients in him at least. </p><p>"Good morning? What's um - are you alright?" </p><p>John's eyes fluttered from the would be innocent question, growing even more flustered at each passing second. "I'm a bit sore, that's all. I had a long night last night and it's just taking a toll on me." As those rolled off of John's tongue, Cynthia crossed her arms, cocking her head to the side, her eyes skimming over John's posture as he walked gingerly back to the table in which he was holding onto for dear life. </p><p>Then it hit her, already being unashamedly familiar with <em>that</em> kind of limp in your walk. "John?Did you get <em>railed</em> by someone last night?" She asked him even though her mind already came to a conclusion in on itself, her voice glossed in a higher pitch of genuine disbelief as her eyes widened at the idea of her best friend having his ass handed to him. John squeaked, immediately jumping at his own defense while he sauntered carefully over towards Cynthia before she could properly freak the fuck out. "Oh my GOD!"</p><p>"Shh! Stop it! Listen, can you please just -" </p><p>"Who was it? Wait don't tell me! You're a liar! You said that you'd never end up in some type of relationship and you're over here fucking people!" </p><p>John stomped his shoes against the floor, shushing Cynthia loudly as the girl continued to rant about his past words. "Jesus, just shut up and let me explain! I just - <em>fuck</em> okay I did have sex with someone last night, but it's really not a big deal." The auburn haired man said, voice soft with a lingering plead for Cynthia to actually listen to him since intimate situations like this could make him turn into a mushy mess in public. "I've been meaning to talk to you anyways, but not about this though. So forget about it for a bit." </p><p>Cynthia blinked, calming herself down. "What is it that you wanted to talk about?"</p><p>"Marline. She came in really upset yesterday, I was thinking you'd knew a little bit about it though." John said to her, fingering the breakfast bar he required from the snack rack as he spoke with a much more serious facade this time around. </p><p>"I mean -" Cynthia exhaled, making her way towards the cubby to put her stuff away with John following behind her with a much more stableness to his walk even though he was still feeling a bit sore. "Marline isn't always the brightest person, she's always kind of mad about something if you remember." She said in response, making visibly John frown at her, basically concluding that Cynthia didn't know to what extent Marline was upset for. </p><p>"Cyn.. her boyfriend was killed. She was on the phone with him, and he was killed." John said with some type of firmness in his voice, making sure Cynthia knew the extent to how serious this conversation is. Like expected, Cynthia froze in her movement with a gasp and her eyes widened wide in shock at the statement that fell through John's mouth. "Shelby told me earlier that she couldn't get in contact with Marline since she quit yesterday, she was very overwhelmed when she came here." John had continued, as he continued to play with the breakfast bar. </p><p>"I didn't know. Oh my God? If I knew then I wouldn't of -" Cynthia ran a hand through her hair, shock flowing through her bloodstream. "Jesus fucking Christ, I didn't know at all." </p><p>John shook his head, "I'm sure you didn't know, but you're not the problem. It was Shelby calling her in nontheless after Marline told her about it." He said, a small thought in the back of his head hoping that Cynthia didn't intentionally put Marline through one of the second worst days of her life since the two of them never really got along. "Plus, I don't like the favoritism she gives us really. It's been kind of uncomfortable to deal with lately, especially if it goes that far."</p><p>Cynthia hummed, signing into the health check thing while John followed behind her like a lost puppy. "I get it. That's not a good look for her <em>or</em> us, a lot of complaints could be done." And it was true. Cynthia couldn't wrap her head around the fact that Marline's boyfriend could have gotten knocked by the serial killer, not even two weeks after Todd got indicted over murder charges of the little girl. It made her believe that the police were just trying to cap this off and pin the murders on somebody since there was no lead at the moment, but fuck - how hard could it be? The man's car was outside of the emergency room, but why would the killer dump that guy's body outside of the emergency room when all of the other bodies were found in towns miles away from Liverpool? </p><p>Unless, the person in the car was not the serial killer, and he just wanted to dump the man's body at the front of the emergency room for some help. It'd be weird to think about since the man had fallen out of Paul's car, literally <em>bleeding</em> out. Cynthia couldn't help but to think that it was a coincidence that the camera was having technical issues that night, it all tied in wrecklessly with each other and it wouldn't be the biggest surprise if any conspiracy theories launched from this.</p><p>"That's what I wanted to say though. I just - I thought that we needed to talk about it because it all ended up on me having to do the work in the store alone." John said when he eventually noticed how Cynthia zone out into her realm of thoughts, and then the man began to blush when he was reminded that Paul barged in the store midway through to give him a short snog session. Once the thought of Paul entered his mind, his heart began to speed up, the delicious ache in his legs and back began to act up again, which caused him to lean against the wall just like he did when he leant against the table earlier. </p><p>Cynthia sighed, rubbing at her head in self frustration as she turned to her friend with a genuinely upset look in her eyes. "I'm so sorry John, I know that was incredibly hard and you're probably exhausted." She apologized, taking a step towards her friend and grasping at his hands to give them a reassuring squeeze. "You can call out today if you want. It's on me, you need to rest. Okay? Plus you have studies of your own." </p><p>John blinked, feeling flattered but still worried. "But Cyn what if no one else comes in today? You're going to be the only one doing the work." </p><p>"I'll be fine, you need to go home love, I think Stu is still out there so he could drive you back. Plus, from the looks of it I don't think you can walk correctly and people would notice your cute little limp." John turned into a whole cherry, a surprised gasp emitting from his mouth as he began to whine out for Cynthia to 'leave him alone' and 'stop teasing him' while the girl began to giggle a little at the flustered reaction she got from her friend. "Wait, but before you leave, you have to tell me who it was."</p><p>"Didn't you tell me <em>not</em> to tell you?" John had smartly asked, pouting his lips a little even though Cynthia couldn't see it because of the mask covering his face. Cynthia gave him a jokingly stern look, and John was basically forced to give in since she would prod him all day about this if he didn't go on and tell her now. "It was Paul, I thought you'd figure that out since -"</p><p>"Paul?" Cynthia gasped, and pulled at his hands. "I KNEW it! I knew you two had something going on, especially when I seen you on his lap! Was he good? How big -"</p><p>"Cyn!" John gritted his teeth, narrowing her eyes at her as his cheeks continued to turn red with grace and pure embarassment. "It was nice okay? I'm only going to leave it at that, also you're a pervert." He said in a petulant sounding voice, shaming the girl who only rolled her eyes at him playfully and ruffled his head of hair since that was the main thing he couldn't be able to dodge an attack at. </p><p>Meanwhile, in one of the two libraries -</p><p>"I just dusted this shit yesterday, what the fuck? And who the hell keeps putting Harry Potter books at the crime discovery section?" George had ranted in annoyance, removing the books that don't belong in certain columns and unsafely stacking them up on his left arm, sorting through everything to fix it. Paul had quietly followed behind him, obliging to carry whatever books that George couldn't exactly hold in his grasp, inside of his head was this impatiently ticking clock of wanting to see John again since he hadn't had the chance to yet. </p><p>"Why don't we just get a book cart and put the books on there?" Paul asked after a couple of seconds, he had no problem carrying the books but it was dwindling down his already shorting patience. There was an urge to get his hands on John again, and this time Paul wasn't sure of what he'd do once he would get his hands on him. The thought of killing John was appealing, all of the time kind of - but when the image of the older would plop its way into his head and when his physical presence would be in his field of view - Paul would just fucking -  tumble. </p><p>Yeah, fucking tumble onto the library floor with a bunch of heavy fucking books falling violently on his face and chest? Paul groaned out in pain from the resounding thud of one book, probably the holy fucking bible hitting the side of his head. He was just lying there on the floor comically with his upperbody mounted up by books, in another situation George would've wheezed and laughed aloud but this just looked more like a Nickelodean freak accident. </p><p>"Oh shit, I am so sorry!" Richard squeaked, wheeling his cart back with wide and blue eyes as George stared at the two of them with widened eyes. "Are you okay? I lost control of the cart, this one has loose wheels and I was just - God I'm really sorry!"</p><p>"How ironic, he was just asking for a cart." George had breathlessly laughed, dropping his own books to get the heavier books off of his best friend while Paul began to sit up. Richard and George grabbed at both of Paul's hands, heaving the man up onto his feet while Paul had stumbled a little bit from the sudden fall when Richard had accidently ran into him. "Are you okay Paul? That was a hard fall." </p><p>Richard blinked when 'Paul' slipped from George's mouth, and his blood began to run cold a little bit as he backed up from the two friends. Paul was scarily silent, looking downcast as his fingers massaged the tinging area of his scalp which one of the big books had struck when he fell and it made Richard himself begin to lose his footing when Paul looked over his way.</p><p>George looked at Richard, noticing how deathly pale the older man had became when he realized who he ran into. George had all of a sudden remembered their last conversation, and immediately jumped to Paul's defense before anyone could say anything else. "Ringo this is my friend Paul, the only time you two interacted was over the phone so this is a proper greeting if anything."</p><p>Richard was quiet, so was Paul until George began to feel extremely awkward and spoke up for the third time. "But anyway, Paul are you okay? Answer me."</p><p>Paul blinked, face softening. "Oh, yeah I'm fine. I just hit my head really hard." He murmured under his breath, doubling over to pick up the fallen books as Richard continued to stare at him with questioning eyes. The possibility of him hitting a serial killer with his cart was making his head spin almost out of control, and he couldn't seem to move from his spot at all until George called him out, making him flinch a little bit. </p><p>"Richard can we borrow your cart? Call it um - a debt fulfilled." George said to him, raising a brow as Ringo inhaled sharply and nodded his head, his blue eyes still embedded on Paul when the younger man had grappled all of the books from the floor. George went to grasp at the cart, pulling it over towards Paul, letting him stack the books on top of the cart while Ringo watched in dreaded consternation. Although he only suspected Paul to be one of the killers since his behavior according from George was a bit cynical in itself, Ringo had some type of natural fifth sense whenever he could feel it and it was raining down <em>hard</em> on him. </p><p>Paul had this dark aura coating him, increasingly unsettling and dubious presence made Richard's skin crawl in discomfort. Paul rubbed his head again, turning to George as his hands wrapped around the handle of the cart and Richard could not help but to stare at his hands too. What they could have done to innocent people, what Ringo still wasn't sure about. </p><p>"What are you staring at?" Paul had suddenly asked while George continued to sort books out, startling Richard into having the man stumble back against another bookshelf, not having enough breaths flowing into his lungs. </p><p>"I - um -" Richard stammered, blue eyes widening. "Nothing! I'm sorry to you again, that's all and it's just nice to meet you. In person? Up close and in person." </p><p>"Oh." Paul breathed, blinking his eyes and nodding his head. "Nice to meet you too. George talks a lot about you, I think he has a crush on you." </p><p>"What? Paul hush!" George spat out, blushing furiously as he looked back at a terrified Richard, something particurlarly disconnected in the oldest man's expression made the playfulness seem all the more awkward. "Ringo? Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost or something." </p><p>Richard swallowed nervously, and for a second he was meeting Paul's blank eyes, quickly averting his gaze  back to George's. "I'm um just still kind of shocked that I hit someone with the cart. That's all." </p><p>"At least it was a cart and not a car." George had shrugged, smiling a bit at the small laugh that came from Paul from the small joke. "Go and get some air Rings, it looks like you might pass out." He said which caused Richard to narrow his eyes at the two for a split second, before pushing himself off of the book shelf to speedily rush away from the two younger men. Paul had let out an exhale, running his hand through the tender spot on his head which made George slap his hand away to replace it with his own. </p><p>"You can go home if you want. I'm sorry you got hurt, I'm going to be here until late anyways and I think you have a date with John." </p><p>Paul tensed, eyebrows furrowing as he looked over at George. "What did you just say?"</p><p>George let out a noise, and removed his hand from Paul's hair to throw both of his arms up in defense as he shrugged his shoulders. "I was just joking! Don't take your head injury out on me gosh!" He exclaimed, with a mockingly high pitched voice while he tried to claim his innocence. Although he was not going to deny it, Paul had rolled his eyes at George and reached up to poke his forehead before letting go of the cart to make his way out of the library. </p><p>Richard was watching him walk out of the book section where he was still in, book opened in his hand, as he took in a breath when Paul made his way out of the door. "God, he just has this black cloud hanging over him and no one else notices it." He muttered to himself, feeling his gut clench as he pressed the book up to his chest and stared down at the floor. </p><p> </p><p>John answered his phone, halfway done with a large bag of salt and vinegar chips which was usually a deadly combo for people who were sane enough to just choose regular chips to snack on. Putting a pause to the math lesson he was watching since he could not seem to get the hang of anything, John had greeted the caller with a chirpy: "Hello?" </p><p>Paul seemed to freeze up when he heard John's voice, looking inside of the coffee shop one more time, eyeing Cynthia gift a customer their coffee after giving them their change. Right now he was standing outside, shivering and cold but too - what's the word? Shy? To go inside of the coffee shop and ask if John is working there. Plus, he already knew that the girl's name was Cynthia and fuck it would just be awkward since he didn't really like her like that. So with a nervous breath, Paul talked. "It's me, Paul. Are you at work? I don't see you." </p><p>John went rosy, chips flying in the air as he scrambled up onto his feet, standing on top of the couch as he sucked each and every one of his fingers to get the chip flavor off. "Um no, I'm at home. I called out today because I was really tired anyway, and Cynthia felt bad for leaving me alone yesterday." </p><p>Paul hummed, turning away from the shop in that case. "Do you want me to come and see you?" </p><p>"Yes." John said, too fast for his own liking. "I really missed you.." He sighed out, making Paul's insides bristle. "And I need your help on this dumb math class. Also the self portait thing got bumped up to having to be done earlier, I swear my professor is an ass." </p><p>"If you're tired then why are you doing school work? Put on a show or something and cool down before you stress yourself out." Paul had said, a certain tone in his voice that made John immediately close his laptop and throw his notebooks to the other side of the room just to obey the younger man.</p><p>It was just something about Paul that made John just want to give up everything for him, but that was also something that'd possibly end up dooming him at the same time. As John plopped back down onto the couch correctly, he sorted through netflix, murmuring something stubborn under his breath, Paul continued to speak to him. "I missed you too by the way. Hope I wasn't too hard on you last night."</p><p>John made a noise at both sentences, feeling heat swarm him. "N-No you were fine! You were fine, it was just my first time in awhile and it did leave me a bit sore." </p><p>"In awhile." Paul repeated, face hardening as something sporadically insane began to drown him. Suddenly, the thought of him wanting John to get some rest had disappeared from his mind, replaced by something else.</p><p>John nodded his head as if Paul could see him, <em>and</em> as if it were a question even though it was a distinct reitteration. Paul hummed, and John began to giggle lightly at that. "What? Did you think I was a virgin or something? Then I'd be even more sore -" </p><p>"Someone else got to have you like that?" Paul asked in a low but strangely pleasant voice, cutting the older off and making John pause a bit in confusion from the sudden mood shift in the conversation. "Crying? Begging? Making those pretty noises?"</p><p>John began to grow hot, grounding his hand down at his crotch to shut the rushing blood up the best he could. Fuck his voice - John couldn't control the tremor in his speech as he talked to the obviously bothered younger man. "Paul I - it was a long time ago. Why are you worried about it?" </p><p>Paul didn't say anything. </p><p>"Plus it's not like we're officially - you know." John added on nonchalantly, and that was what did it for Paul to clench his teeth in aggression, ready to take the phone off of his ear, possibly hang up before he could hear John ask: "Unless you want to be?" </p><p>"Want to be what?" Paul questioned, playing dumb since he honestly didn't know his answer to the question. Or maybe he did, but he felt as if pestering John towards annoyance would benefit him in a way since John unintentionally did it to him. Even if Paul said yes, he'd still be unintelligibly angry at the fact that someone else got to have John before him, and that was beginning to bug him to no end. </p><p>John hesitated, his voice becoming low and almost whispery. "Never mind."</p><p>Well, we'll leave <em>that</em> conversation at that for now. Paul shook whatever that was off, and then continued with a voice that made John squirm around on the couch, blushing embarassingly from the shift. "It doesn't matter if we aren't official John. I fucked you with a purpose, I hope you know that. I staked a claim on you, do you get it?" </p><p>"But -"</p><p>"But what?"</p><p>John let out a shaky breath somewhat understanding what Paul meant but he decided to continue acting naive anyways, a cute smirk growing on his face as he gathered his words together since Paul had put him through a sudden dwindle. "If I'm not actually yours, why do you have to be the only person who gets to have sex with me? What claim did you stake on me?" He questioned, not even meaning to sound as challenging as he did. Paul hummed with a look on his face that made it seem as if he weren't too pleased to hear that, walking away from the coffee shop, and making a beeline for his car. Cynthia blinked, gazing out of the window and watching Paul with curious eyes as the man walked away from the store. </p><p>John opened the door after several minutes of him and Paul sitting in thick silence on the phone together, backing up in some type of sick excitement when the younger walked in with a unintentional type of aura that was incredibly intimidating towards John. Hanging up his phone, placing it in his coat pocket and then taking his mask off as he approached John, kicking the door closed behind him. John's breathing picked up as adrenaline coursed through him, and soon enough the older couldn't help but to squeak out: "I was just kidding with what I said! I just wanted to tease you. How did you even get here so fast?"</p><p>Paul already cornered John against the wall, staring at him with a serious expression that hadn't worn on a single crack of humor. John blinked up at Paul, beginning to part his lips until Paul had moved quickly, suddenly pressing both of John's arms at either side of his head against the wall, leaning in and swallowing down the surprised gasp that rolled out of John's mouth with his lips. John eyes fluttered opened wide in shock, before coming to a gentle close as their lips embraced each other passionately, Paul brushing his tongue against John's with a pace to the kiss that the older couldn't hold in a moan to. Butterflies fluttered in John's stomach, a pink tint birthing in his cheeks when Paul's hands smoothed up his wrists to briefly interlace their fingers together while the younger moved in to press their bodies closer together.</p><p>Pulling away a bit after a couple of seconds, Paul had stared into John's eyes their breaths mincing together for a bit before Paul took a step back and abruptly twisted John around. John's breath hitched, "What are you doing?" He asked curiously, feeling something hot course through him as Paul's hands let go of his, now resting gently on his waist. </p><p>"You pissed me off." Paul replied back, pulling John's bottoms  and boxers down, making the older shiver in some type of arousing dread. John couldn't help but to squirm, unsure of what Paul's intentions were now that he was naked from the waist down, if he was going to get fucked again then he didn't mind but the tension brewing was making his cock harden even more.</p><p>"I said I was kiddi- AH!" John yelped after there was a strong slap on his ass, his eyes widening in shock and his hands were beginning to fly back to grab at his booty until Paul grasped at both of them with one hand of his own. </p><p>In response to that, Paul spanked John again but impossibly hard which resorted in the older groaning lightly in pain and of course something else. "Someone ever spanked you before? Who else had you like this but me?" Paul questioned, genuine possessiveness reeking as he smacked John's ass harder making sure to dig his nails into his buttcheek with this particular one which sent a pretty moan to escape John'smouth.</p><p>Although he was mad, Paul was obviously getting off on this too, sending another hand down on John's cheek which caused the older's hand to twitch, a soft cry out to go loose and his body to bow into an arch. "Please -" John began to beg, wanting something else since getting spanked was making his cock literally drip with precum, straining against his shirt as he panted in pained arousal. "Please, please, <em>Paul</em> can you - ah!" He cried out again, tensing up against the wall while Paul suddenly pulled John's waist towards his pelvis and leaned his chest against the older's back. </p><p>"Answer my question." Paul had ordered through the haze of his frustration, the hand he used to spank John suddenly draping in between the older's slightly spread legs, wrapping around the base of his cock and giving it a squeeze. </p><p>"You're the only one -" John mewled out, his voice hitching while Paul stroked his cock in a slow pace, his hand drifting up and down on the older's cock making John tremble against him. "Whose done this. Now can you please -"</p><p>"No baby, you have to get off on your own with this one." Paul said, making John whine out and desperately buck his hips against Paul's hand before the younger could let go of him, pulling John's bottoms back up. "Now, didn't you say you need my help?" </p><p>John was near tears, wanting release so bad his bottom lip was trembling and his face was flushed from the frustration from the sexual build up. God if he talked then it was likely his voice would be all airy, and his words would end up falling on top of each other since he stutters a lot whenever he's like this. In conclusion, Paul is a fucking menace and John knew that he was going to hate it whenever Paul gets mad at him, the man's a sex God in a way. </p><p>So while they were in the study room, and while Paul was working on the portait, John changed his clothes because he had to take care of his nagging erection before doing anything else. Right now he was playing with Mittens, dangling a string of a ball of yarn above the cat with a smile on his face as she jumped up countless times to capture it and make it her own disaster. "Come on Mittens, you got to jump higher than that baby!" He encouraged, capturing Paul's attention after a couple of seconds. John was bouncing a little on his knees, sitting on his knees so that he could have a proper height advantage over the cat. </p><p>When Paul noticed his soft auburn hair flowing from his movements, the giddiness in John's laugh and the starryness in his eyes, Paul couldn't help but to shiver in annoyance. Jesus he needs to get himself together, the feeling that comes over him when he's around John has been controlling him a little bit too much lately and it didn't help that John was also a sucker for him. The man basically hinted to Paul if they should date! That's way too far. Fuck but John was so fucking - what was it about him that made Paul so unknowing of what his next moves were? What was it about John that made Paul feel much more warm inside, more warm than he's ever felt than being around George?</p><p>Mittens caught the yarn, and John cheered her on, hugging her gently before looking over at Paul with a glisten in his eyes. "Mittens caught the yarn Paul." </p><p>Paul blinked at him, blushing a little as he unintentionally smiled at John. "That's good."</p><p>Maybe it's because John's an angel. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Pain." John sighs out under his breath, his cheek resting against his palm as his eyes looked at the rainy sight outside of the restuarant he sat in. It was snowing at first but then it began raining shortly after, and he honestly never felt so at peace besides the lingering thought of Paul raging in his mind. John averted his brown eyes back to the menu, not really sure of what he should order since all he wanted to do was get out of the cold. If only he could drive around, life would be so much easier for him, but being in college was already giving him enough financial reasons to not buy a car and get his liscense right now. </p><p>Pain. He meant pain as in - wanting to know what his nondescript future with the younger man, named Paul endearing McCartney is going to turn out to be if they keep whatever they have up. John really likes Paul, right up to a point where 'like' was becoming a slow understatement and it's beginning to stress him out a little bit whenever he'd think about their last meetup. Paul genuinely seemed aghast at the fact that John had sex with someone before, and the spanking kind of halted his thought process which reduced him to being quiet all day, kept to himself really. </p><p>John sat back against the seat, removing his phone from his pocket since there seemed to be a bundle of notifications nagging at him throughout the last couple of minutes. Putting his phone on mute, he took in a breath and placed it on the table before running his fingers through his hair. Maybe doing that was not exactly a good idea? John is by himself, and he hasn't talked to anyone all day except his cats so checking in seemed like a good call at the moment. John hates how he sunk into his feelings, remembering why he hasn't gotten into deep rooted relationships since he's a sensitive person, delving into his thoughts a bit too much than he'd like to. </p><p>Paul first walking into the coffee shop, literally making John's tongue twist and his heart race just from simple eye contact before an exchange of words, gosh he was going to fucking burst. John wants more of him, each day they interact or are around each other, John wants much more from him in a lot of ways. Not only sexual, but emotionally and it was beginning to drive him insane since he was kind of scared to ask Paul what his stance on their relationship is. </p><p>John thought Paul was intimidating, bringing something up like them actually suggesting to tie a knot on their evolving feelings towards each other made him a bit nervous. He wasn't sure if the younger man would be all for it, but it was just - God what was it? Paul seemed so closed off but then he seemed so opened to him at the same time, and John just wants to catch him when he's vulnerable. That could be easy if John could get past the goddamn cauldron of heated sexual tension whenever he sees Paul, and the flashbacks of Paul being on top of him, fucking him relentlessly. </p><p>John inhaled through his nose, the scent of his fresh mask and the aroma of delicous food made his insides tingle pleasurably. "Fuck." He mumbled under his breath, closing the menu when footsteps approached him, most likely a waitress as a whiff of the perfume fragrance brushed up right through the mask and into his nose.</p><p>"Are you ready to order?" The waitress asked in a light welcoming voice, whipping out a small barely spaced notebook and a pencil from her beige colored apron as she looked at John expectantly. John opened the booklet, skimmed his eyes over the menu for the last time, looking through all of the different food choices since he'd take the food to go because eating in a restuarant seemed a bit chippy for him, he chose to get the ceasar salad.</p><p>The waitress obliged, questioning the man if he wanted something to drink with it and John only replied with a small head shake since he'd have wine at home to deal with.</p><p>John sighs again, feeling detatched, a bit illusioned by all the events that continues to arise over the last couple of days. The music in the restuarant is playing soft tunes from the early 2000's, John thinks that he fell into a void of such embrassingly deep emotions, he ended up in a loop of being teased by different sounds surrounding him. Mocking him on his feelings towards Paul, it makes John elicit an annoyed toot, his arms crossing over each other's as he rests against the table with a frown completing the sour expression on his face. </p><p>Before John moved out of his mother's house, Julia tearfully told him. "Whoever you find yourself attracted to, never let them make you grimace." Whatever that meant, John didn't have the chance to ask because Julia's husband was being too much of a dick for him to give a fuck at the moment. With that thought, John remembers not wanting to acknowledge his mother when he's left by himself since it makes him think about her just - shrugging him off in his later years.</p><p>Wanting to massacre the kid who threw a dodge ball at John's face Julia is better than letting her husband make the decisions and basically kick her son out Julia. John decided to stay with Mimi for a few years after that, nothing was entirely wrong with that since his aunt didn't say much about his presence, if she had a problem she'd give him a signal. </p><p>The rest of his family thinks Mimi is a mute. John has no clue if Mimi is actually mute, there was no occurences or incidents in her life which would be the cause her becoming incapable to utter a few words. John didn't mind though if Mimi was mute or not, he loves his aunt, and she loves him with just as much love that could be legitimately possible. </p><p>John waits patiently for his food, leans back against his seat as he sighed through his nose, fighting off the urge to blink his eyes into a spatoon of sudden sleepiness. John thinks he should contact Paul, but the likeliness of that is extraordinarily dim since talking to Paul makes him feel like he needs to run several laps. Dealing with the younger's persona,  including his thinking process seems so exhausting. </p><p>John likes him too much to do that, and he's convinced that he'd go insane. </p><p>When the container of freshly cooked food, wrapped up ordely in the official restuarant bag, stapled closed and all, John blinks his eyes back open. "Thank you." He murmurs, reaching into his pocket, removing his wallet to pay the bill with an absent look in his eyes. The waitress eyed him, concerned but not sure if she should ask John whether or not if he's okay.</p><p>As John walks outside, food held in his arms, the auburn haired man stares ahead without really staring ahead. In his view, soft showers of rain drenched the grounds ahead of him, with the street lights reflecting off of the wetness of the road it gave him a good view to draft in his head. It wasn't late, just scarily dark clouds blocking the rays of the sun, giving Liverpool a nightime atmosphere especially with all of the rain being included. </p><p>John isn't far from home, the restaurant he was in is a few blocks down from his flat after all. </p><p>With that thought, he tried to convince himself that he did not feel the need to be concerned at the window tinted vehicle beginning to follow him after a couple of minutes. There was a few people on the same sidewalk as him, but not enough to notice the vehicle trailing behind him slowly as John walks with a growing pace to his stride. </p><p><em>If you look suspicious, then of course you're going to be followed John.</em> Sentences that were supposed to be comforting only plagued his brain, belitting the thought of him not having to worry about the headlights flashing against his backside as he continued to trollop down the sidewalk. The sounds of his shoes splashing against small puddles, tiny breaths escaping through his lips and huffing against the cloth of his mask, the growing rate of his heartbeat knocking against his chest is not helping him right now. </p><p>Chancing a glance, he took the oppurtunity and decided to crane his head back at the vehicle, becoming slightly blinded by the brightness headlights. Shit. The sound of a police whirl made his body jolt, feet come to a stop, and with sudden realization John was surprised at the relevation that he was running. Breathless and dizzy from the lack of air coming into his body because of the mask, John reaches up to take the cloth off of his face as his mouth parted to pant in desperation for appropriate oxygen fulfillment.</p><p>The man following him stepped out of the car, and John took a step back, his body tremoring while the stranger walked up to him. John backed up when the man was now at least two feet in front of him, fear thrumming throughout his body for some unspecified reason since he wasn't sure why an undercover police car is following him. "What were you running for son?" Came a voice, deep and filtered with a touch of humor as John silently looked up at him with big eyes. </p><p>John couldn't talk immediately after the question was asked, his lips weren't moving at all for a couple of seconds since the cold and the adrenaline coursing throughout him didn't seem to be the best combo. "I thought you were going to kill me." John finally admitted, voice sounding scared and hesitant, but that's how he felt at the moment. </p><p>The man stared at him with a small smirk, his eyes searching John's face. "I'm a detective, there's no need to worry. I guess I shouldn't of stalked you like that." He said, chuckling lightly while John just trembled and held his food close to his body since it was warm. The coat he was wearing hadn't been entirely waterproof, but John thought he'd be home soon enough that it wouldn't really matter if it were or not, right now he was shivering like a leaf. "Are you cold?"</p><p>John huffed, eyebrows furrowing. "N-No, I'm okay. I just need to go home, so my food won't get cold. So if you'd excuse me." As he was beginning to turn around, the detective reached out and gently grasped at his arm to make John face him again. </p><p>"I'll drive you home, plus I have a couple of questions to ask you anyways." </p><p>Ah shit.</p><p>As John got comfortable in the passenger seat, the heat of the seat and the warmth of the car lessening the chance of hypothermia to swarm him, he let out a gentle sigh from the sudden heat. The detective sat back against his seat right after the closing the door, glancing over at John with a pleasant smile on his face. "What's your name?" </p><p>John's cheeks were naturally flushed, and it wasn't really helping his current situation because it could be easily taken as a blush on his cheeks. "John, John Lennon." He answered quietly, an unintentional scowl on his face that made the detective laugh and clasp his hands together. </p><p>"Mine is Brian Epstein. I just wanted to know if I ever had to refer to you in the future."</p><p>John's eyes had widened into literal saucers, turning his head to meet Brian's eyes as his heart began to speed up again in the same way it had while he was sprinting away from the car. "What do you mean refer to me? What do you want from me?" He asked, not really in a defensive voice but much more in a soft and dumbfounded 'but why me?' type of tone, Brian took notable interest in this boy (definitely not because John looked delicously handsome) but he was assigned to look for someone in the local area.</p><p>John was the one to catch his eye, ever since he was roaming the area looking around for the young men he could choose to watch over the behavior of people. It only helped that the man worked at a moderately popular coffee shop, people of all kinds waltzed up in there to order some morning beverages and it is said that the auburn haired man is a beloved employee. </p><p>"I've been assigned," Brian began, starting the car as John fiddles with his fingers, chewing gingerly at the inside of his cheek. "To choose several people to report anyone that suspects malicious behavior from someone they're close to."</p><p>John blinked in confusion, looking over at Brian as the car began to drive. "Isn't that what's expected from anyone though? Why does it have to be watered down into specific people reporting suspicious behavior?"</p><p>"Good question." Brian said, a small smile on his face as John's question rolled around in his head for a couple of seconds. "Throughout the weeks, there has been a bunch of false reports of cynical behavior from different people but it doesn't fit the qualities needed for us to look into."</p><p>"What are the qualites then? All of a sudden there's an <em>expectation</em> needed to be a serial killer?" John asked, simply not understanding where this conversation is going. Why would the police deparment try to choose specific people to report suspicions of malicious behavior involving a serial killer whose been on a tier for months on end. Killing 20+ people, senselessly dumping their bodies in different areas and possibly doing more with them that John couldn't gather the must to think about. </p><p>"Not specifically, we've seem to taken the traditional approach in dealing with these crimes. Right now, we looked at the past occurences of serial killer murders through England and America was all. What helped Ted Bundy's capture is people actually dissecting the appearance and timing of when he striked his victims, we need witnesses." Brian had explained, eyes on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel as the car glided smoothly down the road. John hadn't even realized that Brian knew where the hell his home is until the street began to slowly look familiar. </p><p>"Ted escaped twice." John replied, voice sounding a little too blunt for his liking, especially when talking about Ted fucking Bundy. </p><p>"It was the seventies, a different time, but they still ended up capturing him when the local area paid more attention to the women who were last seen with him." </p><p>John sucked in a breath, shaking his head he tried to register all of this. "So you want me to pay attention to any other future victims? Watch if they're going to disappear or end up being harmed?" He questioned in uncertainty, not even truly sure on whether or not if he could accept that, there is a lot of things in his head right now - including Paul - and tracking down potiential victims will be another one of them?</p><p>"If you don't mind. I trust you to do so, not only because I find you incredibly attractive, but because I feel as if you'd understand the tensions around here. You thought I was going to kill you for example." Brian said to him, making John blush this time, not using the heat of the car against his chilly skin, his eyes widening into the size of saucers again. </p><p>"Well I - I don't think I can do it." John stammered, looking away from Brian and out of the window to swallow down the image of his neighbor flashing before him. "I already have a lot on my plate right now, and it's kind of busy for me mentally too." </p><p>"Oh well, if you're not available now." Brian started, pulling his car up to the front of John's home, turning it off as he turned to face the younger man with a gentle smile on his face. Whisking his hand from his pocket to pull out a light green card, making John look down at it with curious eyes. "Then you can have my card, and I'll accept whatever you have to say when you make your decision. For now get home and warm up, I hope you enjoy your food." </p><p> </p><p>Paul's leg was jumping anxiously, barely listening to Jane's rambling, continuing to refresh his phone for <em>any</em> notifications from John. Jesus, where the fuck is he? The older didn't speak to him all day, it was fucking strange because John would always find a way to text people back. Right now he is in therapy because he didn't want to hear Michael's pleads later for not attending, being forced to pay attention to whatever the hell was going on with his mental state which was not his exact priority right now. </p><p>Yeah he's self aware, he is the killer, he's the cold blooded murderer; but the thought of John not responding to any of his reach outs was making him worried if the man was alive. Paul licked his lips, blinking his hazel eyes as Jane suddenly stopped talking because of the mental absence the man is going through at the moment. It wasn't clear to Jane if Paul was even listening to her, he looked stressed and detatched from the therapy session even though they were only forty-five minutes in. "Are you alright?" Jane asked, her eyebrows furrowing in a concerned frown while Paul stares at the floor with narrowed eyes, thinking and thinking.</p><p>"I'm fine." Paul murmurs, not even sure as to what question he responded to, the oral fixation that he abandoned when he turned seven (replaced by aggression and violence) came back a bit when he stuck the tip of his index finger into his mouth. Jane watched helplessly as the man teethed at his nail, his teeth habitually impaling into the skin of his finger.</p><p>This is the hardest patient to spread open so far. How could she do her job if the man barely ever spoke during these sessions? What could she even do for him at this point? It's so frustrating in a way because she really needed to get into this man's head, it's like trying to get through a thick glass shield and holy shit.</p><p>"Well, would you explain to me how you'd usually cope with your destructiveness?"</p><p>Paul blinked, mumbling: "I usually read a book." His mind is full of John, wondering where his whereabouts are and how he's doing. </p><p>Jane nodded her head, pen rattling against her journal awkwardly while she popped her lips in uncertainty if she wanted to continue the conversation, the whole session actually. "Paul I'm just wondering if you've ever been professionally diagnosed with a mental disorder. Have you've ever been neurologically tested?" She asked him softly, nothing particurlarly menacing about question. </p><p>Paul looks at her in shock, his expression scary and accusing enough to make Jane's skin pale a little bit. However, he asks her in a calm voice. "What are you trying to say?" Before she could answer the question, there was a soft knock on the door and it made Jane tense up in her seat since it was completely out of nowhere. </p><p>The door opened after Jane gently said 'come in' incoming George, who peeked in with a curious look in his face as he looked around the room for a little bit. Paul stares at him, a questioning gaze in his eyes while George ventured inside of the room. "Hi I'm George, are you his new therapist?" He asked as the girl, making Jane nod her head in affirmation while Paul stared at George in confusion as to why he was here. "Oh, that's nice, but if you wouldn't mind, can I borrow him?" </p><p>"Oh um -" Jane thought about it, and then she inwardly said fuck it with a shrug. "Sure, we can continue next week Paul. Let's talk some more though, okay?"</p><p>Paul looked straight at her. "No."</p><p> </p><p>"Why did you come and interrupt the therapy session? I mean, I'm not mad at you, but I just want to know why actually." Paul asked him while holding the umbrella above both of their heads, the two of them heading towards his car. George shrugs, lips pressed together in a taut line while he lets the warmness of his coat seep into his chilly skin as the rain continues to pelt down on top of the umbrella, but the wind only made it hit his face a little bit. It seems as if he was too cold to talk, so Paul just left it at the ongoing silence. </p><p>When the two of them heaved themselves into the vehicle, George shuddered and rubbed his hands together to create fiction to keep down the cold icing at him. Paul turns the heat on, sighing and reaching up to run his fingers through his damp hair as his eyes averted out the window to look at the rain pouring. George hums, eyebrows furrowing while he thought of the reason why he came to pick up Paul. "Michael got into an accident."</p><p>Paul eyed him, boggled, surprised but not coming into any conclusion. "What accident?"</p><p>"I think he got beat up or something, but he's in the hospital right now and he wants to see you. That's why I came here really. I don't know you're going to react but I'm sure he's okay."</p><p>Paul's quiet, blinking slowly as the words curdled inside of him, seeping hotly into his skin like a brand. Michael is okay, as far as he knows, but there was a thought of him having to lose his brother with none other than a numb feeling. Shit. Paul inhaled sharply, a sudden sound that scared himself, George's hand is on top of his, and it made Paul feel signifcantly uncomfortable. </p><p>"Paul?" George cooed gently, only for Paul to coldly remove his hand away from his friend. When George noticed that Paul's hand was now settled on his own lap, the younger tried not to be hurt about it and withdrew his hand to rest it inside of his pocket. George muttered afterwards when Paul didn't seem to make any move to reply to him, "Could you talk to me? I know it's kind of out of nowhere but, I really need to know if you're okay. He's your brother after all."</p><p>"I'm fine George. What do you even want me to say to that? Ah that's too bad, right?" Paul snapped, slowly becoming annoyed while he turned the car on. George scoffed, frowning at the tone Paul is using towards him, it wasn't his fault Michael got hurt so why is he getting yelled at?</p><p>So with that being said, the younger turned towards him with a frustrated look on his face as he wrecklessly confronted Paul. "I just want to make sure you're okay. I wouldn't know whether or not if you're upset with any of this because you never tell me anything in the first place -" </p><p>"God fucking damn, you repeat this shit all of the fucking time." Paul spat out, the man was lashing, and he was lashing bad. It's been pint up for awhile, George just triggered it unknowingly. "What's really the fucking problem George?" He asked, looking over towards the younger man who only sat still in a bit of shock, but he was too wrapped up in his own angst to really sob over Paul talking to him like he's crazy. </p><p>"My problem is - you've always been able to tell me things before whatever happened at the comic thing happened. After that, you've been distant from me and yes I repeat it because it fucking <em>hurts</em> you jackass." George explained, trying his best without getting too overwhelmed with his emotions, then it leads him to crying and fuck all. Jesus, he did not want to blow a fuse in Paul's car, with Michael being in the hospital and waiting for them to arrive. </p><p>"I lost the comic shit George, and it broke me." Paul replied, his insides twisting up with building irritation towards his best friend. "You knew how deep that shit was to me back then. The night was fucked up and I never wanted to talk about it in the first place."</p><p>George sighed, and his face softened, still vexed nontheless. "I know but, it's going on two years right now since it even happened and it feels like it's getting worse. Is there something else that you won't tell me? Why are you not telling me anything?" He asked on, brown eyes twinkling with confusion and frustration. Paul decided to ignore him for the best of himself, beginning to back the car up until George went to slap his hands away from the wheel. "No, we're not going anywhere until you answer me."</p><p>"George, what the fuck? What do you want from me?" Paul questioned, a shocked laugh escaping his lips, asking the questions in a light voice to hide how truly upset he's becoming. George glared at him, he got started and now there's no going back even if Paul tried, but hell he wasn't the one that brung anything up. George got himself mad, and now he was getting Paul mad. </p><p>"I want a valid reason why you're so withdrawn, nowadays especially. You've never been so offstandish with me before until recently. So what the hell is it?"</p><p>Paul couldn't hold back the biting retort. "Please, will you shut the fuck up with that? It's the only thing you can backpedal to, and I gave you an explanation already. You've known how hard my life is, seen it firsthand, why the fuck do I have to explain myself to you all of the time?"</p><p>"Paul, I'm not asking for you to talk to me all of the t -" </p><p>"The thing is George, you are. You <em>really</em> are. It's fucking annoying because there's <em>always</em> something that has to be wrong with me, and I <em>always</em> have to talk to <em>you</em> about it." Paul had snarled out, "Stop fucking bitching about me not opening up to you when I have nothing to open up about for fucksakes. I'm <em>not</em> a child, and I can talk about my emotions whenever I damn well please."</p><p>George sighed shakily, cheeks red and eyes wet from how upset he is. "It's not-"</p><p>"It's not what George? Everything you say to counter me at this point is just you simply not giving a fuck about how I feel whenever you keep asking me why I'm not talking." Paul continued, his hands back on the wheel, gripping it tight so he could keep them from possibly comitting harm on the younger.</p><p>George breathed in, frustrated and mad, his voice rising but shaky. "Let me finish!" He <em>literally</em> yelled, silencing Paul's mouth but not the older's annoyance. "You keep talking over me and it's making me really upset."</p><p>"I don't care." </p><p>George growled, growing more frustrated. "Shut the - <em>ugh</em> can you just listen to me? Please? I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to make me getting you to talk more so consistent but I'm just really scared of losing you to something stupid." He tried to explain, but the tears and emotions were flowing instead. "What happened to Michael makes me more nervous that if anything happens to us, we wouldn't be able to get the words that we wanted to say out."</p><p>Paul looks ahead as the younger talks, not wanting to see George cry since that always seemed to trigger something inside of him that makes him go soft and self blaming. When he said he didn't care, it's not meant to make George more upset, the older wants to make sure that it's clear he doesn't care anymore. To him the conversation seems done, and done. </p><p>But then, George kept talking through his tears and Paul just couldn't drone him out for the life of him. It's inescapable if you stuck with this person for so long. </p><p>"I love you, and I want to be here for you all of the time. I'm sorry if it gets annoying, and I never meant for you to become upset about it. Just don't shut me out here, can you look at me?"</p><p>Paul grumbled something under his breath, looking over at George with a purposely bored expression on his face. George could see right through it though, he wants to convince himself that he <em>knows</em> Paul, he knows him as a man and a person. George has been battling through what Ringo had told him the other day, it purges him on and on if he really knew his best friend. A moment to ice the cake of that question could be this one right here, but George still felt as if he is out of loop, there's not going to be a way on whether or not he could hit that one nerve in Paul to get him to spill. "I'm sorry, okay? Can we just - go and see Michael then go home to cuddle or something? I feel like you hate me now."</p><p>Paul bit his lip, not answering immediately, swiping his eyes back over to the front. "Yeah, I guess. I got to go and see John in a little bit though, he hasn't been answering." He murmured, feeling a dull grey feeling prod at his heart at the subject change to something else that bothered him to no end. George wiped at his eyes, Paul refused to look at him and watch. </p><p>"Alright," George sniffed, blinking wetly as he tried to conjure up the words. "But do you understand where I'm coming from though?"</p><p>"Do you?" Paul replied, raising a brow. </p><p>-</p><p>Plugging in subsitutions are easy, but what you have to do leading up to plugging in subsitutions are a pain in the fucking ass. John had been chewing on this thumbnail for a long five minutes, staring at the triangle and then a trapezoid that had at least several letters wrapped around it, including degrees and sides. All of what seems downright confusing, easy to others who are insane enough to have fun doing math, but a torture to people who are not gifted with that. </p><p>When a knock on his door occured, he immediately assumed it's Paul and it made him a bit nervous since he's been pining over the younger man all fucking day. Or it might've been Brian, even worse! John closed his laptop, and slowly heaved himself off of his chair with a sigh as he looked around for a little bit with a frown on his face, if he were to go answer the door to see Brian he'd need a coat. What would make the man come back though? Hopefully not because John knew that Brian seems to be interested in him, and Paul already demonstrated how he felt about John even having sex with another man that was not him in the past. </p><p>John tugged on a big sweater, walking over to his door while rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, taking in a deep breath to keep the tension away from his chest. Paul, Paul, <em>Paul </em>kept running through his mind, the name itself doing laps around the grounds of his brain whilst he twisted the knob of his door open to no avail. </p><p>Yup, it is Paul, and John's heart beated loud against his ribcage. There he stood, tall and gorgeous, his hair damp, cheeks a bit flustered from the cold with a dejected expression worn on his face that made John want to reach out to touch him. Only thing stopping him, is how hard he's pining for the younger, wanting Paul all to himself but not wanting to do anything stupid at the same time. Paul's eyes grazed over John's face, the man looked so soft, big sweater looking snuggled and loose around his body, cutely disheveled hair. Piercing almond shaped eyes were staring at him, but Paul notices the certain glow seemed a bit dimmed with a complicated thought roaring through the older's head. </p><p>"Can I come in?" Paul asked after a couple of seconds of both of them just staring at each other, eyeing John's appearance with no shame. God he looks so beautiful, he hopes John knows that.</p><p>John hesitated, before clearing his throat gathering himself as he spoke in a even voice. "No, I like you too much to let you inside today. So just - go away before you make me even more sad." He managed to croak out, a blush on his cheeks as a breeze crept through Paul's dark hair, making the sight of the younger much more eurphoric. </p><p>Paul blinked, shifting an impatient leg as he began to frown. "What are you talking about? Just let me in, I was wondering where the hell you were all day." </p><p>John whined, wanting Paul to take him serious, but it was indeed cold so he stepped to the side so that the younger could walk inside of his home. "Paul you know what I'm talking about, I like you too much and it's making me feel really - just ugh. It's too complicated." He said, closing the door behind him while Paul casually made his way down foyer to head into John's kitchen for something to snack on before he could confront the older man. </p><p>"I'm sure that I say I like you too, is that what's complicated?" Paul replied, as he walked into the kitchen while John followed behind him, flustered and at a lost for coherent words. "Before I let you ramble on though, I need you to tell me why the hell you weren't answering any of my calls or texts."</p><p>John let out a cute irritated noise, flailing his arms. "That's what I'm trying to explain! I haven't contacted anyone today because I've been thinking about you!" He exclaimed, watching with a pout as Paul poured himself a cup of fruit punch. "And - it's been deep thinking too."</p><p>Paul took a sip of the drink, leaning against the counter, eyes on John with furrowed eyebrows as if he's confused by the statement. John decided to continue explaining, "I think I'm f- I think I'm falli- I don't know what I'm doing but when I'm around you my heart beats really fast and I screw up whatever I want to say." He says, trying to capture his breath while he rambles on, not wanting to tell the obvious but not wanting to be too unopened with it at the same time. </p><p>Placing the cup down, Paul pushed himself off of the counter and approached John quietly which made the older back up a bit. "Are you nervous to truly tell me what's got you so nervous around me John? You can talk to me about anything, and you know that." He said gently, tugging the man back to him with a hand on his waist, John felt halfway gone. </p><p>"It's different." John mutters back in response, not knowing where to put his hands, so he just rested them on Paul's shoulders. "I just really feel a lot of things for you."</p><p>"Do you want me?"</p><p>Oh fuck. "<em>Yes</em> but - it's bigger than that? I don't know how to explain it really, and it's hard to think about. It might even involve love and stuff -" Paul tensed up at that, thankfully John didn't notice it. " - I just don't want to scare you off though by like making us an actual thing, but it feels that way sometimes when I'm with you." </p><p>"John, baby." </p><p>John looked up at him with a expectant look written on his face, their eyes meeting while he shivered from the use of the petname. Paul's eyes were curtained in darkness, evil looking and it made a ripple of something soothe down the older's spine. "The pandemic just starved you baby, there's nothing actually there and it's been awhile since someone touched you. It makes you confused on what you want."</p><p>John frowned, "But that's not -" </p><p>"Trust me baby," Paul cut him off, his hands stroking at John's sides, beginning to brush underneath the sweatshirt to feel at his soft skin, making the older's breath hitch. "I'm pretty sure you're only feeding off of me fucking you. Your mind is telling you something else, and acting on it is just going to make it worse."</p><p>"So I'm just- I don't really have feelings for you?" John questioned, manipulated, and Paul took the oppurtunity to crush it in so that 'love' or them 'getting together officially' would never be brought up to the surface again. Paul is already feeling similiar afflictions for John abiding most of his actions, especially on not killing him yet but that was already out of the window since he spends time with John the most lately. In the beginning there was no excuse though. </p><p>Paul has him in his clutches, there's no reason why he should just go all out and end up dating the man, falling deeply in love with him. Even though he won't seek into the possibility that he's halfway there, the other half being a little too encouraging for Paul to manipulate the older's growing emotions for him. Paul knew that John basically confessed that he is beginning to fall in love with him, and as much as his insides leaped for joy at that thought, the haze of something else that was triggered when George told him about Michael fell over him completely.</p><p>"You don't."</p><p>"I don't understand." John said to himself, blinking in confusion as his hands slipped away from Paul's shoulders, pushing gently at his chest so that he could part away from the younger to think to himself. "I've been going through it all day thinking that I actually felt something."</p><p>Paul stared at him, blank and unmoved. "Then stop thinking so much, let's just go put on something like a movie. I have a lot more to tell you about." </p><p> - tbc.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Something happened to my brother today. Apparently he got his ass kicked. Can't say I can't blame the people who did it, he's annoying." </p><p>John made a face, eyebrows knitting. "Don't say that." </p><p>Paul glanced at him, then transitoned his gaze back at the television, looking cold and disconnected. "It's been a long day John." He muttered, not really giving anything to accompany how deep those words are except for the posture he's sitting in. Both of them were cooped up on John's bed, the older's television on the opened screen of Netflix with John fiddling with the remote distractedly as he gawked at Paul, his legs drawn up to his chest. </p><p>"I get it, but - that's your brother and you shouldn't say that because if he'd really got critically injured then you'd regret it." John says, his voice soft enough to evoke an annoyance in Paul that ate him up unpleasantly since it was so <em>gentle</em>, so fucking warm. "Even if you feel nothing, the realization will dawn on you when you least expect it, and you'll feel like shit."</p><p>Paul grew defensive. "Jesus, you and George always calculate how I'm supposed to feel about things. I said what I said, just pick a fucking movie out."</p><p>John blinks, retraces, and then begins to eye Paul with a specific look on his face that is deemed unreadable. To be honest, he's in denial, not even sure if that was meant for him and all since John really couldn't conjure up whether or not Paul had the audacity to snap at him like that. "What the hell? Who are you talking to like that?" He questioned, sucking in Paul's sudden silence like a vacuum. "Don't take your frustrations out on me, I'm just saying."</p><p>"John, you're the only person here besides me. And you'd <em>know</em> if I'd take my frustrations out on you." Paul replied, blunt and annoyingly honest. </p><p>"That's what you're doing right now, you're being a smartass and all. It's been a long day for me too but I'm not bugging you." John explained to him, the tinge of genuine vex in his voice strangely appealing to Paul as the younger flattened his hand against the bedsheets. </p><p>Paul looked straight at him, uttering out in a tense voice that made John's body go rigid with irritation: "You stupidly convincing yourself that you're falling in love with me isn't equivalent to whatever the fuck I had to go through today, John."</p><p><em>Asshole</em>. John glared at him, chest getting warm, remote flying out of his hands as he pushed at Paul's shoulder in emotional aggravation. "Go be a dick to someone somewhere else, I don't have the time for you. Thinking about you all day already has me in a slump, and you being an ass is just gonna make it worse." He spat out in a breathless voice, causing Paul to realize that he seemed to make John upset too which is surprising. George and John getting mad at him all in the same day never seemed to be a thought or a reality that he could co-exist in, wow. </p><p>Paul felt doozy though, grasping gently at John's hand, and silently pulling the older towards him whilst the man frowned at him with a hurt expression on his face. "The thing is - you don't really want me to leave, you just know that I'm right and it's pissing you off." </p><p>"Right about what? Nothing? Yeah, okay. Now let me go." John growled out in a petulant sounding voice, his cheeks flushing when Paul only stared at him blankly as if he didn't understand what John meant by 'let me go' or anything else before that. "Paul -"</p><p>"Right about policing how I should feel, and you falling in love with me. Which one should I start on first? Maybe the second one, sounds more appealing huh? Easier to dissect and all?" Paul questioned darkly, using his other hand to grasp at John's leg and tug it forward, hard enough to have the older suddenly splat his backside against the sheets, head hitting the pillow which made him elicit a soft 'oomf' before fluttering his eyes opened wide. </p><p>"Shut up! It's actual feelings, that I feel for you. It's not just the sex, I really feel like I have something for you." John retorted, looking up at Paul's backside since the younger went back to his lounging position, remote now in <em>his</em> hands analyzing the three netflix profiles. </p><p><em>Cyn, John</em>, and - "Who the hell is Stuart?" </p><p>"Why do you need to know?" John grunted, sitting up on his elbows once he mustered up the energy to do so after Paul basically just pinned him down on the bed. Paul looked at him, face serious like always, but this time it possessed John to answer the question without putting up much more of a fight. "That's one of my friends," He hissed out, still mad. Some instigating voice in his head told him to say something spiteful like 'Stuart's one of my friends, a department that you're obviously lacking in' only because Paul said that he's stupidly convincing him that he's bearing deep feelings about their relationship. </p><p>"Fix your tone." Paul ordered deeply, furrowing his eyebrows. John sucked in a hitched breath, thrown off guard a little bit at the <em>shift</em> again! What the hell man, why does this always happen? John is beginning to feel a little deranged with the heat that's creeping up his body, both of them fighting for dominance as they stared at each other. A match that Paul won without a doubt since John began to feel flustered, backing down with a softened tone like Paul expected. "I'm just asking, if you're really that upset about what I said then you just -" </p><p>"I'm not upset. I mean I am, but I'm not. I'm just really confused, and I'm trying to figure out why the hell you're being so mean to me." John stammered, eyebrows furrowed. "I just don't want you to be regretting anything if something tragic happens to someone close to you."</p><p>Paul parted his lips to interrupt, but John was not George and he continued even when it was visible that the younger wanted to say something in return. "Or someone you <em>used</em> to be close to. That's one of the worst things that could ever happen to you. Being separated from someone you truly loved before you could end up rekindling and your last thought or words to them was something negative." </p><p>Paul stared, stilling up suddenly, his hazel eyes poised on John. The older man's face was slightly flushed, his hair unkempt (as always), which made his appearance be more youthful than expected, he also looked visibly tired when Paul actually zeroed his eyes in on his face. John had a pink tint to his cheeks, a glow in his engaging sepia colored eyes that drank in all of the uncluttered frustration and tension off of Paul's shoulders. John unintentionally brung the color back into Paul's amatomy, his physique unfastening with the traction bestrewed upon his shoulders throughout the day. Paul had then realized, as he stared at John mutedly, that most of his abysmal behavior concurred mostly because -</p><p>He wasn't around this man all day. John hadn't answered his texts, calls or anything and he didn't even realize how frustrated that made him. Paul genuinely missed him to a point everything, including Michael began to pint up some type of distinct otracism inside of him. Poor George didn't even get the worst of it. </p><p>John looked away, looking shy enough to break Paul out of his trance. "But that's all I wanted to say. You probably don't care." With that being said, Paul turned his upperhalf towards John with a sudden interested look sheltered in his gaze. </p><p>"Did you trim your hair?" Random, but conceivably innocous apart from the other shit Paul uttered out throughout this interaction. </p><p>John looked at him again with a confused look on his face, moving a hand up to brush his fingers lightly through his hair. "Stuart did." He murmured, "Did you just <em>now</em> notice?"</p><p>Paul hummed, feeling as if he were screwing with himself at this point. <em>Yeah, I just now noticed John. Did you think I was staring at your enchanting face because I simply wanted to? </em>Paulinhaled through his nose, his own cheeks birthing into a light red look. "Didn't notice until now really, it's hard to really see because you never get around to brushing your hair." </p><p>John whined out, relaxing a bit since Paul's guard seemed to be more down than earlier. However John was still feeling lost in his own arena of emotions, not even knowing what the hell to do with himself when it came to this swirling whirlpool of possible love. "I do brush my hair! It just gets messy during the day because my friends are always messing with it!" </p><p>Paul bit his lip, suddenly wanting to do stupid autopilot things. "I'm sorry. For acting like an asshole, taking shit out on you and all. I did the same thing to my friend earlier, you're right."</p><p>Surprised a little, John tilted his head, cute eyes cutting into Paul's windpipes since the look of John made him breathless nontheless. John, <em>so easy</em>, couldn't hold back the teasing  smile beginning to invade his face. "Well, I forgive you, I guess." To be honest, he tried not to convince himself that Paul is also apologizing to him for saying that he's just starved from not being touched in awhile, that thought could sadly wait. </p><p>"You guess?" </p><p>John shrugged playfully, giggling softly as Paul scooted the rest of his way onto the bed again, pinning John back down against the sheets for the second time. However, instead of pulling away from him, Paul succumbed into the conciousness of his raw feelings and kissed John lightly. Both of their eyes fluttering closed as soon as their lips touched, Paul's left hand rested on John waist as he brushed their lips together in a sweet pace while the older caressed his cheek and neck.</p><p>Their breaths mingled together, their lips canoodling with each other delectably as Paul's tongue stroked into his mouth benevolently, soft sighs eliciting from the both of them as John's fingers progressed into the soft fleece of his hair.</p><p>Paul let his hand scavenge up into John's sweater, broad, fingers spread as he felt up the side of his warm skin, tracing his ribcage and chest. John submitted after a meaningless fight of dominance between their tongues, breath hitching softly against Paul's lips as he thrusts his tongue lightly into the heat of his mouth, soft and skillfull fingers playing with his nipple. </p><p>"Didn't come here to have sex baby." Was what was suddenly whispered into his ear, bringing John back into reality since he basically lost himself when Paul's lips were sucking delicious, pleasurable bruises into his skin. </p><p>"<em>Please</em>."</p><p>"Hm," Paul emitted after a couple of seconds, chuckling amusedly against the crook of John's neck when the older began to mewl, withering pathetically at the feeling his nipple being stimulated. </p><p>Fuck. One of John's hands darted down between the two of them when he realized that they weren't being pinned down or anything, doing the impossible, he went to grasp at that fucking dick that belonged to Paul. Paul froze, pulled away, and John had enough view to see what he was doing as he groped at the younger's clothed cock in a way he'd do to himself whenever he had the time. Paul's eyes fluttered closed, lips parting to let out a soft moan, letting John touch him for an equally agreed limited time and John took the opportunity without any hesitation to speedily undo Paul's pants. </p><p>Paul rested on a forearm, shivering when John's hands wrapped around him, giving him firm but slow and teasing twists that caused the younger to elicit a shaky breath. John stared at Paul, eyes inquisitional, taking in the sight before him of Paul somewhat <em>submitting</em> until his hand was smacked away and driven up above his head. "Keep em up there." Paul breathed, the look he worn on only seconds earlier vanishing immediately. "Didn't I say you could touch me soon?"</p><p>"But -"</p><p>"But not right now." Paul briefly smiled at him, looking sexily insane as he shifted off of the bed, eyes glued over at the lubricant resting aside all of the other accessories lined up next to each other on John's dresser. John huffed out from the shared words, frowning cutely with a flustered face, and squirming around impatiently as Paul went to grab at the lube, sorting wordlessly around until he grasped at a condom wrap. </p><p>Paul walked back towards the bed, standing at the end with the bottle and condom wrap, each one settled in both of his hands. "God you look so fucking good." He mutters, more to himself than to John but the older heard it anyways, soon enough he was crumbling against the matress with a beet red face from the compliment. Paul strips himself of his pants, climbing onto the bed, settling everything to the side as he grasped at John's waist to properly pull him down flat against the matress. John bit down on his bottom lip with a quiet sigh, eyes glazed with inconsolable lust as he hoisted his hips up while Paul dragged his shorts and underwear down his legs. </p><p>Paul spreads his legs opened, and John's excitement builds as the younger pours lube all over his fingers, throwing the bottle aside again with tranquil. "John," He calls out, hooking the older's leg up while John tenses up, closes his eyes, and immediately grasps at the sheets in preparation. "Look at you baby. I haven't been here for an hour, and you're already wanting me to fuck you." Paul says, probing John open with ease while the older births out moan, squeezing around the two fingers in relfex as the intrusion sends a cold wave over him. </p><p>"Paul -" John's eyes fly open, pleasure coiling inside of him like fresh lava shooting out of an erupting volcano. Paul smirks, curling his fingers against his prostate again after finding it in no time. "<em>Oh</em>," John pants out, cock beginning to dribble against his sweatshirt as Paul thrusts his fingers in with a tortously sedated stride. Yeah, Paul's got him, and holy shit does it feel <em>good</em>.</p><p>"How does it feel?"</p><p>"So g-" John gets cut off with his own interruption, a crackling moan that hit a note that even Mariah Carey couldn't touch for the life of her, his back arching off of the bed as the moan became accompanied with different pitched sounds. Paul halts so that John could get his words out, and John's hips buckle into a cute stutter from the sudden pause of stimulation, a small sob hurtling gorgeously out of his mouth. Getting the pause, John pants out in a rushed tone: "It - it feels <em>so</em> good. Can you plea- ah!" He yelped as Paul massaged his prostate again, eyes glowering with an evil look of amusement. </p><p>Eventually, Paul wrecklessly tore the condom opened, his ravenous use of teeth making John's cock throb needily. John was on cloud nine hundred as he whimpered out at nothing, legs falling opened whoreishly as Paul eagerly planted himself in between them. As intimate as it seems, Paul leant down to pepper kisses along John's collarbone and neck as he pushed inside of the older man as cautiously as he could. Letting out a breathy sound against the soft skin of John's neck that strewn John's confidence up gracefully when he squeezed gorgeously around his cock, Paul grasped at the older's hands and held them with laced fingers. </p><p>John threw his legs around him, moaning out and lolling his head against the pillow as his body was jerked up with each thrust that pelted him delicously. "Fuck," He cursed hotly, throwing his head back while Paul bit at his skin, soft but deep noises of his own being buried into John's bruised skin. "Ah, Ah, Paul - shit shit <em>fuck</em>." Was what kept chanting, burling through John's parted lips, prostate stimulated fully as Paul continued to fuck him with a relentless speed. </p><p><em>Less shy, I like that</em>. Came a voice, and then there was an urge to choke John but Paul threw that out when a ripple of fierce pleasure seemed to incapacitate his thoughts. John moaning his name, clenching around him, their hands holding onto each other's, the older's legs tightening around his waist when the pleasure rid up both of them. Fuck - it was too much. <em>Way</em> too fucking much, and Paul knew it as soon as he realized that he's kissing John, thrusts slowed down to a leisure but bearable pace while their tongues wrestled again. </p><p>This time, Paul gave up and let John lead the kiss. </p><p> </p><p>"It's crazy." </p><p>"What is?"</p><p>John lifted his cheek up from Paul's chest, looking up at him with dazed eyes, coated with sleepiness but relaxation above everything else. "Aren't you paying attention dummy?" He giggled, placing his cheek back on the younger's chest as the two of them watched an extremely coincidental film that sent a ridiculous amount of chills down Paul's spine. </p><p><em>Extremely</em> <em>Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile.</em> </p><p>John suggested it while Paul traced lightly at his cheek in a blank trance, both of them still sweating and trembling after being strewn through two ridiculously good orgasms that had their heads spinning. Paul cleaned both of them up, and John ordered a pizza not too long ago so they decided to put the movie on since John wanted to watch the Ted Bundy tapes afterwards for some reason. Maybe it should make Paul concerned, but he himself was too wrapped up in a shitload of thoughts to even think about why John suggested the movie.</p><p>"I am baby." Paul replied after a few deliberating seconds, launching butterflies in John's stomach as he ran his hand up and down the curve of his back. Actually paying attention, he watched as Ted (Zac Efron) jumped out of the window, landing <em>almost</em> unrealistically on the ground in front of a witness. Paul grew silent, and then pale when his mind, still on autopilot began to recoil violently at the reasoning why Ted jumped out of the window. Everything leading up to that scene, and then what came afterwards made him truly disgusted. </p><p>God. </p><p>Ted was sick. Paul felt his stomach lurch, a small, very <em>small </em>voice in his headtellinghimthat<em> he's </em>sick<em>. </em>When the warmthofJohn slowly began to depart, due to the older pulling away from him and paying mind to the knock on his front door down the hall, Paul had started talking to himself without even noticing. Repeating 'Ted is sick' over and over again, shuddering, becoming ghostly pale until John had noticed the whispering with a concerned look on his face. "Paulie? Are you okay?" He questioned, a furrow in his eyebrow as he pulled up a pair of sweatpants to go and greet the pizza man. </p><p>Paul flinched, coming back down. "Huh? Oh I just -" </p><p>"If this movie is too triggering then we can turn it off. I just wanted to watch it because it seems interesting, especially with all that's going on right now." </p><p>"No, I'm fine. I just didn't know too much about him like that, and it's really sick that he did all of these things." Paul said, his voice low and unbelievable but John had to take his word because he needed to go and fetch the pizza before the delivery man got fed up, leaving with John's pizza. The older nodded his head, hurrying out of the room to go and retrieve the food while Paul immediately sat up on the bed with a violently swift movement of his hands flying up to his hair, pulling at it to get himself to calm down. </p><p>Jesus fucking <em>Christ</em>. </p><p>Sympathy is not exactly what he felt. It's more so shock that he'd actually feel some type of resentment towards himself throughout the process of watching a movie about another serial killer. Ted's experience of killing people compared to his is extremely different, if anything the only aspect the two of them have in common is just killing people and manipulating their thoughts. Or that was what Paul tried to tell himself.</p><p>He's not like Bundy, right? There's practically no way he could convince himself that a woman is bad enough to deserve death of such extremity that'd Ted Bundy would practice on his victims. Well women, he hadn't had a problem with women, it's always been the young men that'd end up dead because of something stupidly ignorant or physically done violent to him. The real question that lodged itself into his head is why the hell was he questioning himself? What's the fucking problem? Paul <em>never</em> questioned himself before - or maybe he subtly did the first time around when he intentionally killed somebody. </p><p>Why should he start questioning himself now?</p><p>Ted Bundy was insane. Paul's not, and he's sticking to that relevation no matter the little voices in his head beginning to tell him otherwise. </p><p>To be frank, he blames being around John for the sudden rebellion against Ted Bundy. Paul never truly understood why young women had to be put in the range of fire when it came to Ted. Right now as he distantly watched the movie, Zac Efron's protrayal, the real events that had transpired to become of this film, Paul couldn't help but to shun away the thoughts that debuted in his brain. There's no reason to go through a sudden spell of questioning his motives when he's at John's home, that's just dumb and wreckless. </p><p>Would he question himself with Jeffery Dahmer?</p><p>Paul squinted his eyes, not making any sense of that since Jeffery did <em>things</em> he couldn't muster up the mental capacity to dwell on about. Especially when John came back with the pizza box on one arm, and a giant liter of Sprite clutched in his hand. "I'm back! I don't know what pizza you like so I just got the regular pepperoni." He exclaimed, trudging over towards the bed and placing the box down next to the younger man, setting the sprite on the night table beside his bed. </p><p>"I don't mind." Paul said in response, eyes lingering on John as the older wiggled out of his sweats, going back to wearing only a shirt and briefs that squeezed around his ass <em>too</em> perfectly. "How do you do that?" The younger asks, a furrow to his brow while he drinks in John's appearance. </p><p>"Do what?"</p><p>"Look so cute all of the time." Paul says softly, something evoking in his chest when John sat crissed crossed on the bed, opening the pizza box with a pure look on his face. A comfortable silence swooned John when he just shrugged his shoulders, biting down on his pizza as his brown eyes stared into Paul's, blushing a little bit from the compliment. Paul huffs in self aggravation, growing flustered himself after a couple of seconds of staring which made John giggle, the younger retraced his gaze elsewhere to his phone lying on the table next to him.</p><p>Should he call George and see how he's doing? Would it be awkward? The two of them did not go home and cuddle like George requested after their argument. Instead, Paul dropped him off after the two of them went to go briefly see Michael, promising that he'd come back before midnight so they could have a more appropriate talk about what went down. Seeing Michael was a bit of an awkward meetup itself since Paul didn't <em>actually</em> go in the hospital room and check his little brother out to see if he was okay. </p><p>Paul felt as if doing that bared no reason to it, he wouldn't get anything fun out of seeing Michael. He never does. It just creates an opportunity for him to become angry. </p><p>John slithered his way over to Paul, pizza still in his hands as he snuggled against his body, chewing happily as he watched the movie. Paul blinked himself out of his head for the dozenth time that day, seemingly caught off guard from the sudden warmth, his heart beginning to thaw when John let out a sigh from the comfort. Although a movie based on terrible events is on, John was more interested in resting the back of his head against Paul's collarbone and tugging the younger's arm around his waist with his pizza grease covered hand. </p><p>Paul didn't object though, instead his cheeks heated up from the action, and his heart began to race. Paul had eventually bowed his head during one of the trial scenes in the movie when Ted Bundy is found guilty of the Chi Omega murders, kissing affectionately at the top of John's head, unfortunately the older didn't notice the action since he's too wrapped up in the movie.</p><p>One thing Paul might have to call himself out on (besides murdering people) is him most likely being a literal hypocrite, or something related to that at least.</p><p>Because John is definitely <em>not</em> the only one falling in love. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the midst of January, heading into February - the counts of missing men have deceased incredibly. Brian notices that, and he's suspicous as well as the rest of his team. When he arrived at the station, he'd been called to headquarters for a meeting hosted by the chief, a well known drinker that could not keep his alchohol down. No one seemed to object to his drinking since shit has went down a huge hell hole since months ago for the Chief, it certainly doesn't help that his son is missing (#14), most likely dead but the reasons of his absence was not dared to he speaken of. </p><p>Brian slung his coat off, draping it off of his arm as he entered through the double doors, passing through the socially distance workers answering phone calls and getting files in about whosever the killer. Brian hummed, immediately beelining towards a rack of tea, coffee, and donuts to grasp at an old fashioned donut to remove from inside of the box along with just-made hot tea. The rack had been brung in most likely from their HR since there's complaints about police officers not having coffee to stick their donuts in, to be frank Brian didn't know how true that rumor is. </p><p>"Been a long morning." Said one of the journalist that sauntered up next to him to get another cup of coffee, Brian noticed how disheveled the young lady looked. Someone desperately needs a vacation, if not everyone. It came as shock to Brian how everyone is so immersed in this serial killer dynamic without even truly knowing who this killer is! What could you even call this person? Jack the Ripper but for men? The girl continued, somberness in his voice. "Finn's family is in shambles right now. Especially when his autopsy revealed at he'd been stabbed at least two times, slashed in the face, and then shot point blank in the head."</p><p>Brian inhaled sharply through his nose, growing a bit sick. "Finn? The missing boy from -"</p><p>"At least two or three weeks ago, yes." The journalist paused, face scrunching up in disgust at a sudden remembrance, her blood curdling uneasily inside of her. "And did you hear about what happened last night?" </p><p>Brian frowned, shaking his head slowly as he raised the cup of tea up to his lips while he explained himself. "I was out of town, driving around Liverpool to engage people to look for anything suspicious. Was there another murder?"</p><p>"No. Technically not, but this happened because of the most recent one." The journalist replied, her eyes flashing with a look of disappointment, a disappointment towards the system not really having any insight as to what was going on in the town when it's already been up and past 24. People are dying to know who the murderer is, and they're even more impassioned to know whether or not they'll ever be found before the population becomes incredibly dispersed.</p><p>"What happened?" Brian questioned, taking another sip of his tea to cool down the dauntness formulating in his stomach, shooting up to his throat which created a burning knot of uneasiness to sway throughout his body.</p><p>"A girl killed herself last night because her boyfriend had been killed over the phone at least two days ago." </p><p>"Jesus." Brian breathed, a knit in his brow that confirms the disturbance wracking on in his head about this whole ordeal. One murder leads to a suicide? How many more suicides can happen? Finn's mother is already on her last strand, the family of an unfortunate victim named Andy is still grieving disproportionately, and a man raised up by his now deceased older brother whom was found in a creek with his neck severed almost completely off is apparently on suicide watch with the police. </p><p>People are fucking killing themselves, or are on the verge of doing so and there's still <em>no</em> leads.</p><p>"It's insane. Her family said she called at three in the morning crying about how much she missed him, and then she said something cryptic like 'I can't do this' the hung up. They went over there and found her dead in the bathtub at five in the morning because one of the family members were worried about her. This morning is Arnold's funeral."</p><p>Brian shivered, the tea tasting acidic, and the donut looking threatening to eat as he tried to stomach all of this information down. "God that's so - I don't even have any words that could describe how truly devastating that is to hear. That poor girl, may she Rest In Peace."</p><p>When Brian attended the meeting, it was what he expected. A drunk chief, who was still in mourning, buried in heaps of hatred towards whoever the serial killer was. </p><p>The others attending were barely awake officers/journalist/detectives listening to him rant on about the next step in this situation, it's not like they were bored, they've been up unhealthy hours studying every aspect of these cases. Brian sat back in his chair and examined the room, taking in the grey and dull atmosphere with subjected relief that it was coming to terms with everyone that dealing with a pandemic and a serial killer isn't the action movie they'd thought it would be.</p><p> The man was honestly a bit disturbed in the beginning when people, younger interns mostly, walked around the building with a naively blinding look of excitement in their eyes, thinking they'd be in some type of action detective movie. A serial killer plus a pandemic riddening Liverpool of its livelihood, the bounce and groove of the town being struck down by one or two psychotic individuals! How exciting, let's get to the nitty pickens. When the deaths kept piling up, both the murders <em>and</em> the covid victims, the excitement dwindled down dramatically. People were becoming scared. </p><p>Men that worked in the office clutched their things closer, kept a few sharp silverware in their bags whenever they could, especially if they had a late night. </p><p>Brian had hunch that shit <em>really</em> hit the fan with everyone in headquarters when a new recruit to the building, a lovable, shy, rookie attorney had suddenly been found in a ditch, a week after going missing when he spent a late night at the office. A young college couple were hitchhiking with their four year old daughter and they wanted to take pictures around the area for future memories turned nightmare when one of the girlfriend's had spotted something abnormal. News broke immediately, the whole building had been devastated as they cleared out the rookie's desk with tearful eyes, some didn't even attend work. </p><p>On another occurence of how serious this became was wheb Brian remembered it being the day Finn's family came in for some questions to be asked. Finn's mother clinging onto her ex-husband while she sobbed uncontrollably about her son, her words almost incoherent. Brian listened on with an understandable frown on his face, hearing as she spoke about Finn in a room flooded with silent reporters that refused to social distance, flashing cameras and coworkers whom were once excited to take on this case. What was said put a lot of people in reality checks, that innocent lives were stripped away, some maniac was running around out of control right underneath their noses. </p><p>Brian came home to his condo that night teary-eyed, pouring himself a glass of wine as he talked to the lead investigator for what was next to come. To be frank, he didn't remember going to sleep that night either and it just so happened to be the same night Jeremy got his private parts mutilated by <em>something</em>. The way it looked could not have been a clean slice, more than likely a rope or a string that sent the male to his demise. Brian fell ill after the headline, not even sure as of what to do with this. No one seemed sure. </p><p>Todd fucked them up, a big mistake that had them staggering and unprepared for the sudden murder of Arnold. Brian remembered an outburst from the caseworker of another victims death when Arnold's news came out, he knocked over a desk and kicked the water over as he snarled out in frustration: "How many more? How many fucking more is it going to take to get our foots out of our asses and catch this motherfucker!" </p><p>After being retained by several people, Brian left the building early to go and lurk around the crime scenes, trying his best to connect the dots. Nothing came up. The slick fuck would dump the bodies in various locations, and then hide under the violence from the tensions given during the quarantine. It’d end up knocking the police department sideways with possible leads that did not seem to match.  </p><p>Brian adjusts his mask, stifles a cough, and then looks up from the half full glass of water in front of him when the room had gotten completely silent. The chief swaying, mumbling something angrily under his breath as he took a thick folder of paperwork handed to him by his assistant. "I call for a curfew. Shutting down the stores, and even the schools again. People should not be out over the time of eight at night." Said the chief, his silver name tag had Charles spelt out, but nobody was allowed to call him that since his son's name was Charlie.</p><p>"So anyone's that's out beyond the curfew thats set out is immediately a suspect?" Someone randomly asked, the question being short of sarcastic but it was also laced with genuine wonder at the same time.  </p><p>"Not exactly, <em>Mark</em>." Charles replied, spitting out Mark's name with an intent to get his point exactly across. "I'm going to have enforcement roaming the streets throughout the night, and twenty-four hours. Throughout the night, there will be two officers in the same car, each two and a half hours they switch to let one sleep if they're tired."</p><p>Brian didn't have any objections at the moment, it's different than any other idea plopping into their heads. Playing with the bridge of his nose, mostly adjusting his mask, he thought back to John for a split second and then he started to smile from the sudden remembrance of basically chasing the younger man down to gift him the opportunity of helping out. Oh, he'd definitely have to pay a visit to the coffee shop today, that's where Todd is mentioned to be at the most. A past killer must've needed a reason to be there, but all that Todd would spill about the coffee shop is that someone special to him works a that shop, and it'd be a fake shocker to Brian if that 'special someone' turns out to be John.  </p><p>And Brian strikes again, right on right. </p><p>As he walks in the coffee shop, bells dingling above him, he oggles John giggling cutely at something a man in front of him said. Brian sends a glance at the man, he's extremely attractive, resting casually against the counter with a natural bedroom-like gaze that seemed like an invitation to any stranger who didn't know him like that. Brian was a stranger who didn't know him like that, as pretty as this man looked, he wants to interact with John to get a word in about his decision even though it's only been a day. So with that thought, he ignored the other man as he approached the two of them with an attractively charismatic aura that caused John to glance over at him with curious eyes. "Good morning John." </p><p>John blinked at him blankly, trying to figure out who this was until his eyes widened in realization. "Brian? What are you doing here?" He asked softly, standing up straight with quiet jumpy nerves since he still hadn't been used to being followed around by a slightly creepy but attractive detective. </p><p>"I came to talk to you. It's just a coincidence that I knew you worked here." Brian had chuckled, feeling glared at. Shit. He was literally forced to look at whoever the fuck was eyeing him so aggressively, and when he caught sight of the glare that came from the man he mentally prepared himself to ignore, he hands went cold from the dark glare alluding from such endearing hazel eyes.  </p><p>"Oh, but - I'm busy right now. With a customer." John said, half serious as he added on the 'customer' part with a suggestive sound in his tone that made the man in front of him briefly laugh under his breath, staring at John with a much more softer twinkle in his hazel eyes for a couple of seconds</p><p>As soon as Brian spoke, the glare came back. "It's important, and it won't take long. You know, it's about what we've spoke about yesterday." </p><p>John hummed, and Paul turned to look at him with not so much twinkle in his eyes this time. "What is he talking about? I thought you weren't talking to anyone yesterday." He uttered, and that's the first time Brian heard his talking voice. It's soft, relaxing and soothingly deep, completely matching the young man's appearance but Brian's more immersed in how offended the pretty boy looked at that very second. </p><p>"I wasn't Paul, he followed me around." John whined, looking at Paul with a promising look in his gaze that gave Paul no other choice but to believe him. Brian looked back and forth between them, the deadpanned look on Paul's face and the pleading look in John's eyes. Afterwards he threw his hands up in defense, capturing both of their gazes as he laughed heartily aloud with a burst of embrassment growing inside his chest. </p><p>"He's right you know. I did kind of stalk him for a couple of minutes, but he was all alone so if you're going to be mad at someone. It can be me." </p><p>Paul eyed him, some type of turmoil birthing inside of brain when his eyes had landed on some type of noteful badge steamed into the side of Brian's shirt. Since the older's hands were raised up in defense, the flaps of his jacket revealed everything Paul needed to know about this man, the walky talky looking thing hooked upon the belt loop, next to it being a gun or a taser, Paul couldn't see it clearly. His mouth went dry, and his chest tightened with anxiety at the thought of John <em>knowing</em> who this man is, not just a man but someone involved with the police. </p><p>Paul stared at the badge for a lengthy amount of time, no longer glaring but looking more so intimidated. "What were you following him for?" He asked softly, the shift in his voice making John look over at him. <em>No, seriously, what the fuck does he want with John?</em> Paul chewed uncharacteristcally hard at the inside of his cheek, awaiting an answer, possessiveness and confusion frightening him to a point he was shifting side to side. </p><p>Brian's hands slid into his pockets, reading in the change in Paul's attitude briefly with a curious gaze before speaking up. "I'll explain it to both of you. Gives me the opportunity to spread the news to more than one person I guess, that'd be easier." </p><p>"If it's about me joining in on reporting people who look suspicious or something like that then I have to decline on it. I've got a number of things on my mind already." John eventually said, already distancing himself from the subject at hand. Paul glanced over at him, skimming his eyes over John's face as the older continued. "Maybe you can get -"</p><p>Ding, ding, ding. </p><p>"Him!" </p><p><em>Him</em> is Richard Starkey, accidentally walking into the wrong shop but stopping dead in his tracks when the sight of Paul crashed into his view. John waved at him, a warm greeting apart from Brian and Paul staring at him with widened eyes. Richard couldn't swallow, breathe or do anything at all actually when his eyes stared into Paul's, a crippling feeling throttling through his body which began to make him feel a little distorted. Brian blinked, and then sputtered out a comedic laugh as he kindly approached the small, stunned man who only stood in the same spot by the doorway with his eyes glued onto Paul. "Perfect timing son, what's your name?"</p><p>"Fuck it's Paul." Richard stammered under his breath, thinking he uttered the words more to himself but he hadn't realized he said Paul's name aloud until John naively called him out on it. </p><p>"His name is Paul too, can't you believe? My name is John." </p><p>"John, baby, that's Richard. He's an acquaintance of mine." Paul corrected gently, earning a sweet sounding 'ooh' from John. Richard's eyes widened more from the 'baby' that slipped itself into that sentence, and Brian couldn't help but to be a little taken back from it to since he glanced over at the two of them with a benumbed look of his own. It was extraordinarily brief though, he figured that John's out of his league anyway, and the two of them already looked wrapped around each other's fingers when he first walked into the shop.</p><p>"Okay so let me get this straight." Brian had laughed trying to break the tension, motioning his head over towards Paul. "That man over there is Paul, and you are?" </p><p>"Richard, I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting seeing Paul here." Richard had managed to make out, going rigid at the remembrance that he crashed his cart into him. Crap, George had called him and somberly told him to go to the store to get some crayola colored pencils for some reason, Richard told him that he's too good to get crayola colored pencils. George replied and said that he's a man of culture, the younger experienced some deja vu with that little moment in their phone call but it was casted out quickly and replaced with him being upset again. </p><p>Richard hadn't expected seeing Paul today at all, especially since George also told him that him and Paul were 'in a bad patch' it's clear as fucking day because the younger sounded frustrated when mentioning him. </p><p>If anything, it gave Richard more of the creeps to be around Paul, but he didn't want to get George more upset than he already seemed to be by mentioning whatever the 'bad patch' could mean. Now here is, walking into the infamous coffee shop for the first time and seeing Paul most likely flirting with the cashier who seemed nice, but Richard is just trying to convince himself that John is not an accomplice. </p><p>"Well, hello to you Richard. I'm Brian, detective Epstein, Eppy, anything you're comfortable with. I was just about to tell John and Paul that I'm willing to expand on an opportunity to let this killer running around get captured much more quickly." </p><p>Richard seemed to relax a bit, Paul grew nauseously tense, and John had just planted his cheek in his palm while gazing on innocently at everyone. "I'd be glad to help. Can I get a friend of mine in on this too? This serial killer stuff has been bothering him like hell since the beginning, his name is George Harrison." Richard said, somewhat using this as to trigger some type of reaction from Paul to confirm his suspicions, instead he got a nod of agreement from the younger man.</p><p>"That's a good idea, he's really bothered by it. I also want to be included in it too." Paul said with his staring plainly at the blue eyed man, the unintentional glare making Richard's stomach churn uneasily, however John seemed to furrow his eyebrows at the younger in astonishment that he'd volunteer to do something as strategic as basically doing detective work. </p><p>-</p><p>"Wait." John mumbled in a hefty voice, gently pushing Paul off of him, capturing his breath  while Paul had sunk back in to attack at his neck. "I never knew you wanted to do all of that, wanting to actively look for the killer and all." He breathily said, trying and failing to keep his voice even throughout the tongue rolling along the sensitive skin of his neck, clutching onto Paul as he began to shiver from the magnificient stimulation that shorted through him whenever the younger grounded his pelvis against John's. </p><p>"Mm," Paul pulled away, hand caressing the older's cheek, tilting John's head so that their gazes were linear to each other along with their lips. "I'm tired of walking around in fear of my life aside from this pandemic happening, I'd take my chances." </p><p>John frowned, "What if something happens to you? You'd have to pay extra attention to people, and a lot of people don't like that. What if you get into a fight? Or you end up -" Paul had shut him up, kissing the frown off of his face with a breath snatching kiss that made John mewl out in surprise from how sudden it had been. John held onto Paul, everything aching for <em>more</em> for a long thirty-eight seconds of them fucking their tongues into each other's mouths, the way Paul had reached down with his other hand to tug at John's hips to move against his own, yeah the topic is definitely out of the window.</p><p>"I'm going to be fine baby, don't you worry your pretty face. Just focus on making those pretty noises for me." </p><p>Huffing, the older withered underneath him. "Well maybe if you moved faster then we both could get what we want at the end." He murmured, as Paul slowly began to close in on him so that they were hotly flushed against each other, the younger settling in between his legs. </p><p>"What do you want? You want me to make you cum?" Paul asked, bucking his hips up against the older's pelvis cashing out a gasp. John whined out lightly feeling the man's eyes boring into him, grappling for Paul as his eyes fluttered closed in bliss. As expected, Paul took the opportunity to drink in John's face with a studious look, licking his lips, and running his hand down his cheek to the base of his bare neck. Right there is a pulse point, with all of his fingers spread out, his hand opened and dangerously close to gripping at the base of his neck. Interrupting his autopilotness, there's a scarily familiar voice penetrating his skull and attacking his vibe in its strongest wave since he's been ignoring his inner thoughts for a long while. </p><p><em>Do it.</em> </p><p>God. Not right now. Urges are becoming vocal, and right up at the wrong moment too. Since the opportunity plagued him timelessly, and Paul holding himself back only triggered a wave of evil, him taking John out now would shut him up. It'd get rid of this feeling anyway, but - fuck things were tight. Paul would definitely be suspected of murdering him, but that's the least of his problems when it came to ending John's life. Being honest, with himself, he physically doesn't want to. </p><p>However. </p><p>Paul clenched his jaw with a soft grunt, hips jerking ruthlessly against John's, his hand squeezing unoticeably at the base of John's neck, snaking up the column of his throat slyly. Paul trembled against him when John moaned aloud the older's clothed cock brushing against his own, the vibrations of John's sounds thrumming throughout Paul's body. </p><p><em>Fucking do it. Choke him. Kill him. Do it right now.</em> </p><p>Paul subtly began to tighten his grip, slowly, unsure, just squeezing his throat gingerly as his breaths picked up. Fuck - John's so beautiful though, the way he grasps onto Paul's backside as they rut against each other like animals in heat, the way his breaths hitch gorgeously, his face contorted in pleasure when Paul had aggressively pressed him down further against the couch to chase both of their orgasms. </p><p>
  <em>Do it. </em>
</p><p>Fuck<em>. </em>All he had to do was strangle him, but his hands were shaking with hesitation, the pleasure was against his time too. </p><p>
  <em>Do it. </em>
</p><p>John cried out Paul's name, so close, his legs trembling and his dick straining against the front of his pants. God if it weren't for this friction then he would have known or noticed that these last few seconds could've been his last moments alive. Paul was staring at him, eyes glazed over with something, something <em>helpless</em> and fucking - </p><p>
  <em>Do it. </em>
</p><p>Paul gritted his teeth, stifling a groan as he squeezed lightly. </p><p>Not hard enough, of course it's not. Paul's grip loosened around John's neck pathetically, his cheeks flushing an embarassed red coated shade. </p><p>John's jaw dropped, his eyes fluttering back opened to look into the younger's eyes and Paul froze up, his hand stilling when their eyes met. John whimpered out his name again, the sound flowing into Paul's blood driven ears, the way his name just dripped off of John's tongue had done it all for him. Just so filled with feelings, even when its most likely at the heat of the moment and just knowing that John fell for him - Paul twitched - something began to roar inside of him when he pushed his hips up against John's again. </p><p><em>Do it.</em> </p><p>Paul grasped his neck again, breathing heavy breaths, John swooned unknowingly. </p><p><em>Kill him</em>.</p><p>The pads of each of his fingers pressed down against the side of his neck, his mind unclear, malfunctioning.</p><p><em>Come on, fucking do it</em>.</p><p>Paul released a breath. </p><p>John gasped aloud, the heels of his feet digging into the couch as pleasure crashed violently all over him as he and Paul came at the same time. Paul moaned, burying his face into John's neck as he panted, short of hyperventilating while John let out breathless gasps of his own. "Fuck," John giggled out airily after a couple of seconds, still breathing heavily as his body twitched underneath Paul's. "That was nice.." John trailed off, feeling Paul shudder violently against him in very short spans of seconds, his eyebrows furrowed in concern and he tried his best to gather himself from his high to question whether or not the younger man was okay. "Paul? You're trembling, what's wrong?"</p><p>Paul breathed in again, pulling away from John with his head lowered, feeling sick. What the <em>fuck</em> just happened? When Paul blinked his straining eyes, his brain had automatically shutdown when a hot string of liquid traced down his cheek, his nose suddenly moistured, his throat burning - yeah he knew he's fucked. It's way too fucking late to go back now. Jesus Christ he's a goddamn <em>idiot</em>. </p><p>"Paul?" </p><p><em>God shut up. This is all your fault for making me feel this way in the first place. </em>"I um, I'm going to go. I'm sorry, I just -" He stammered, head still lowered and his voice shaky enough to make John reach out to touch him, extreme concern on his face. </p><p>"Paul, oh my God, did I do something? Are you okay? Look at me, <em>please</em>." </p><p>Paul looked at him, John gasped, literally whiplashed from the sight of Paul looking so dishelved and afraid all of a sudden. "I- I <em>can't</em> do this with you right now." He stuttered, so out of character, John realized it quick. Paul's at his most vulnerable, his guard is completely down and it's overwhelming to say the least. Before the older could even graze his hand against Paul, the younger was already off of the couch, shaking and breathless, going through a literal mental breakdown. "I can't do this shit. I can't." Was what he kept repeating, voice trembling with something related to fear and uncertainty about the future. </p><p>"Can't do what? Paul -" </p><p>Paul hissed out, self frustration boiling through the rigidness of his jaw due to landslides of anxiety, anger, confusion and love rushing throughout his body like freight train all at once. "I don't want -" <em>To hurt you</em>. "I don't want this anymore." </p><p>John looked confused, and <em>hurt </em>exactly what he didn't want. Paul hated himself, his brain boiling in the scalding water of thoughts debuting in his head. "What did I do?" John asked, and God he sounded so broken already, Paul's stomach launched almost out of his mouth when he realized that John was asking what did <em>he</em> do wrong. Worst thing about it, it's not even John's fault, Paul is just - he's losing it. </p><p>Paul felt as if he were losing it, no he knew he's losing it. The longer he stayed around John, the more he began to ramble. "No, no, no it's not you. It's me John, it's always -" It's <em>always</em> been me. God he said the same thing to Finn, he didn't know why this popped up into his head but it did. Difference is, Finn is dead and John's still here.  "It's never been anyone else but me."</p><p>Why the hell is John still here? Why isn't he dead already? Paul has the advantage to just break his neck, stab him, strangle him but it's fucking <em>John Lennon</em>. Paul is in love with him, he loves him, and he doesn't want to hurt him. The thought of hurting John scares him, and he's never been scared to hurt anyone before aside from George, but he's already struck George once. Paul hadn't thought twice about striking George in the face that one time, but with John he has to do several doubletakes and go through a mental breakdown to make rash decisions. </p><p>"Paul, come on, let's just talk about it." John pleaded, this man somehow keeping himself together while he tried to gets his still trembling legs to work with him, prevailing in mere seconds he walked towards a pacing Paul. "Why do you think it's you? What's got you so upset?"</p><p>Taking a step back, he almost blurted 'I love you too much to kill you' and missed a chance to get locked up in prison. "No, John you wouldn't understand." Even if he did blurt it out, John still would not understand. </p><p>"Just tell me, I'll try to listen. I'm not going to judge you. I don't care what it is, just tell me what's got you upset and why you think you can't do this anymore." John had admitted, the affection in his voice making Paul's insides curdle, catching on such a fiery fire that absorbed his frame, his heart racing due to his blood pumping like its apart of NASCAR. </p><p>"I care about you too much." Paul managed, not trusting his own voice to really expand on that sentence. John furrowed his eyebrows in thought, gently grasping at Paul's hand, the younger froze up at the touch, his body going rigid. Fuck. </p><p>"Is that why you're upset? Are you afraid of your emotions?" John asked, too calculated.</p><p>Paul didn't answer immediately, still not trusting his voice. "We can talk about it later. I'm just - I need to go okay?' He rushed out, removing his hand from John's as he tried to hurriedly made his way out of the living room without making much else of anything. John held onto him though, his hands wrapped around Paul's forearm as he tried to tug the younger back towards him. </p><p>"Please, you don't have to run away from me." Paul came to a conclusion that John is indeed not George, closing his emotions out on him is not going to work with him because John is literally an angel. Each time he touched Paul, the younger felt like vomiting from how fucked up he is when it comes to wanting to kill John during them rubbing against each other, and still - some fucking how <em>getting off</em> when that thought rung in his brain. John caressed his cheek, Paul's breath stuttered, his heart clenching unhealthily. John is going to send him into cardiac arrest without even knowing, or maybe he did know. "If you don't want to talk about it now then at least stay with me and we'll try to work it out. I don't want you to leave and quit on me."</p><p>"But -" <em>I literally tried to kill you</em>. Paul shivered, not being able to choke out the words he wanted to say. </p><p>"Here come on, you can spend the rest of the day here. I'll let you borrow my clothes." </p><p>Fucking hell. Paul nodded, unsure on whether staying here is a good idea or a bad one. However John smiled kindly at him, the look not really reaching his eyes since he himself is still hung up on what just transpired between the two of them.</p><p> When things calmed down a little bit on his side, Paul found himself lying in John's bed, Mittens curled up in his lap as he ran his palm along her fur. John is taking a shower, so that gives him enough time alone to evaluate himself and question what the hell pushed him to a mere breakdown. Paul hadn't even notice Mittens purring from his touches, eyes falling closed peacefully, two more cats sitting nearby the bed, staring at both of them with peeking eyes. Their relative sitting in the clutches of a man who should be shedding a malicoius aura that drives the babies and animals away, instead, the aura was not there for the time being.</p><p>They sensed a truly disturbed individual, in need of help and permanent incarceration at the same time. Paul gave away his emotions with the look of blankness in his eyes, not even sure as to what he's doing here other than making things more unbearable for himself.</p><p>Paul is in love with John, and he's not able to kill him, because he doesn't want to. He's not able to escape the feelings he has for him. So why not just frame somebody? Put John in a predicament in which the older can not escape, have someone else do his deeds without even letting them know. </p><p>Mittens stared at him with a look in her eyes, Paul drew in a breath and looked down at her, attracting the other cats even closer to the bed like magnets. Mittens meowed out some type of protest to Paul's thoughts, a long dragged out raspty sound followed up with an aggressive tail swipe against Paul's soft cheek, the man's nose twitched as long as his hand as it continued to pet at Mittens' back. "I'm sorry." He muttered, feeling as if it were safe to confide to a damn cat instead of Jane, George and probably John. "I was - I thought that I was going to get my life on track at that comic thing, and it just backfired."</p><p>Mittens blinked at him, Paul pictured Mittens as a doll, with no brain to judge him with but a look of understanding. The other cats being a crowd, also with no brain, watching the confrence between the two of them. With a lowered voice, Paul continued. "I don't regret what I've done to those two men who were going to rape me, and I don't regret what I've done to the victims."</p><p>Mittens blinked again. </p><p>"But I'd regret hurting John." Paul confessed, earning a bundle of meows from the cats. "I don't know who I am when I'm around him, and - I want to figure it out. But I have to figure myself out first." </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"No. No. No way." Cynthia murmured, disbelief washing over her as she teared up immediately, hands cupping her mouth as she let out a shocked sound, resembling the sound someone would make when they're wretching from nausea. Stuart shivered from the dauntness of the words casted upon them from Shelby, looking over towards John who was just as pale faced in the middle of eating a salad.</p><p>Shelby looked dead inside as she continued to announce the news, she <em>seems</em> dead inside actually. "I um - I had a talk with Marline's mother this morning and everything. She slit both of her wrists, and then swallowed a bunch of depression pills that were prescribed to her late boyfriend."</p><p>John's hands shook, fork dropping into the container as he placed his trembling hand over his mouth, eyebrows furrowing in extreme disgust. Stuart wrapped an arm around him, feeling the younger tremble against him in consternation from the loss of his coworker, the last time John had seen her was when she was in a inconsolable state. Shelby had sighed, fixing her mask back on her face as she spoke up again. "That is what I've called you here for. Also there's word that a curfew is being put out, the stores are being shutdown until there's word of whenever we can reopen again."</p><p>Since John and Cynthia were cocooned into a state of shock that had droned out all of the outside sounds, Shelby made sure to add on: "You'll still be getting your weekly checks despite us not being opened, we're in the middle of a pandemic and just because we're shutdown doesn't mean your checks are."</p><p>John couldn't hear anything, couldn't hear Cynthia's cries, Stuart's comforting words and more of Shelby's emotional speech.<br/><br/><br/></p><p>Paul put George on speaker, laying on his side in John's bed, feeling extremely tired all over but feeling too twitchy to try and send himself into sleep. George on the other hand had been exiting the shower after taking a long one since his muscles were aching due to carrying boxes of books around for the entire day yesterday, and he's been feeling down in general since talking to Paul seemed awkward to think about. Paul called George because - he just needed to. George sighs, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand as he summons up the courage to speak. "Paul?"</p><p>Paul tensed, "Hi."</p><p>"Hi."</p><p>Paul hummed gently, blinking slowly, fighting through the loss of words and unyielding awkwardness between the two of them. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for snapping at you the other day, and I'm sorry for everything that I've done to you before that."</p><p>George took a second to really expand on how genuine the apology sounds, but coming from Paul who rarely makes genuine apologies, he's sure enough that he's got some type of soulmate discount. Chewing lightly on his bottom lip, looking down at the floor while shifting his foot around in anxious two-steps, George parted his lips and hesitated before responding with a softened voice. "It's fine, I should be the one apologizing for always trying to -"</p><p>"No, you don't have to apologize for anything." Paul said, cutting him off, <em>again</em>. God he really needs to stop that. George makes a noise, not sure as to how he could even take that sentence. "I was just upset back there and I started coming at you because - it was kind of convenient and I was irritated. None of it is your fault."</p><p>"I'm still kind of upset. To be honest with you, and you basically stood me up the same day." George spoke, and Paul could hear the haze of emotions flooding in his friend's voice. "I just wanted to know what was going on in your head since you were once kind of close with Michael. I was not expecting you to really blow up like that and it kind of hurts." Paul laid in pressured silence, basking in enough guilt that made him chilly enough to pull the covers up and over his head. George had sniffled quietly, always becoming emotional when it comes to a drift with Paul since the two of them were extremely close with each other, Paul vibrated and cleared his throat to put a small dip in the silence between them. "Plus, there's just been <em>so much</em> going on."</p><p>Paul had bit down on his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed, wondering what exactly George meant by that. At the same time, he hadn't spoken to George in a long time since their argument in the car and their meeting with Michael, however since he got whiff that Richard is convincing George to be apart of Brian's thing, he needed to connect with him again. Paul inhaled, "What's happening with you? I mean like - what's going on?"</p><p>"Paul, I - do you think you're capable of hurting someone?"</p><p>A sound resembling a high pitched ring of a violin thundered through his brain, muscles tensing as he punched out a forced laugh, sitting up in John's bed. "What do you mean? I was when I was capable of hurting people when I was a kid you remember," There was a sound of George giggling softly through some sniffles, and it made Paul begin to relax a little bit. "Why do you ask? Is everything okay?"</p><p>"Yeah, I'm just -" George took in a shaky breath, rubbing at his eyes. "I don't know, Richard thinks that you're kind of strange for some reason. I don't know why, but you just creep him out a little bit and he just wants to know if you're really capable of -"</p><p>" - Killing somebody." Paul finished, an edge to his voice and to his mood that made him feel dizzy. George birthed a small 'mhm' sounding a little reluctant, Paul wondered why even though the answer seems kind of obvious. "I'm not George, you <em>know</em> I'm not."</p><p>George nodded eagerly, agreeing with Paul right before he could even finish his sentence. "Yes, yes I totally agree. I just wanted to ask you because Ringo's really paranoid." He said, trying his best to somewhat justify the reason why Richard would even buy up such a promiscuous accusation, even when there was not a direct question if whether or not Paul killed those people. Paul swallowed down hard, his throat burning again as well as his hazel eyes, brittling rage beginning to ignite inside of him like a lighter flickering on.</p><p><em>Fucking Richard</em>.</p><p>"Do you think <em>he's</em> capable of killing someone? Or do you think <em>you</em> are?" Paul had asked, taking the question the wrong way, entirely the wrong way. What kind of question is that? If George didn't believe Richard's paranoia, no if he agreed with Paul's innocence, then why the fuck would he even bring the question up anyways? "What makes him so afraid of me? What's the problem? I don't even -" He began to stutter, breathing growing rapid and George noticed, growing concerned from the way Paul's behavior had changed as soon as he asked that question.</p><p>"No, no, Paul it's just a question. I'm not saying that you're capable of killing someone, or <em>hurting - </em>Jesus listen, just forget it okay? I don't even know why I brung it up."</p><p>For some reason, this whole conversation deposited a specific energy. The same energy as the principal spitting out 'your child is insane' to his parents while a crying Paul was being held by his mother, his ears covered as his father obnoxiously argued his son's case. Same energy as kids running away from him at his mere presence, leaving Paul standing alone with his bottom lip trembling, a brand new action figure clutched in his hands. Same energy as his bullies spitting on him after stomping him to the pavement, and then cowering in fear when Paul would retaliate by bashing a large rock against one of their temples.</p><p>Same energy as him being smacked in the face by Jim after that.</p><p>The line went dead.</p><p>Even though the beep had rung aloud throughout his room, George had called out for him, genuinely worrisome and somewhat regretful for ruining their reconciliation, their rapprochement, with such a dumb question. "Paul? Hello? Paul?" He took the phone off of his ear, growing numb when he seen the 'call ended' sign. What the fuck? What did he just do? God what the hell should he do? George had blinked, growing teary again as he immediately went to ring Michael's phone up, unsure on whether or not he doomed his friendship just now.</p><p>Paul sat still, feeling like flavorless beads were poured into his mouth, and every time he gritted his teeth together there had been a crunch. Maybe this is the progression needed for him to find himself, already having some fucking <em>stranger</em>  grasping at a person extremely close to him, prying them away from his fingers right in front of his eyes. Paul felt like he couldn't do anything about it, and it was beginning to frustrate him because he <em>could</em>, but he didn't know where to fucking start.</p><p>Murdering twenty four people can be irreversible right? It's not that bad, you can just act like you haven't killed anyone and go on with your day living a new life, being with John without any troubles. Except that's not the case. Paul tried to engage with his thoughts on this, making John's bed as Mittens' tail curled lightly around his ankle while she stared up at him expectantly. "Mittens, if you ever want to drop your lifestyle for someone, would you? I mean I'd want to drop mine to be with John's but it's been apart of me for years now."</p><p>A soft meow came his response from the cat. Paul smiled a little, never realizing how much he'd tolerate being around an animal that didn't scurry away from like he was crazy. "The first instance started a little bit after I killed those two freaks." He began, trying his best to recycle different memories in his mind to get back to when the third murder happened, an intentional one. "I met the guy at the movies and he asked me for my number, I think his name was Liam I believe."  Mittens went and launched herself into the newly made bed as soon as Paul became finished with it. "So he took me to his home afterwards, and I don't really remember but I think he was the one that fucked me."</p><p>A surprised meow came from the cat.</p><p>"Yeah, it's been awhile since I was the one on the bottom. The last time it almost happened was with that guy whose dick got twisted off by a shoelace." Paul admitted, something twisted in his gut as he thought back to that night, fucking Jeremy. "I was going to kill him, don't get me wrong, but not like that. Ever since then I've never really let anyone get to have me like that."</p><p>Something in him had already been convinced that he'd been losing his mind, a deterioration happening before his eyes. Most of his mind denied it, not wanting to come clean on whatever was happening, him talking to cats though seemed to already confirm what was happening in his brain. Cats wouldn't judge him though, they wouldn't misunderstand him, would they? Well maybe they would, but not Mittens, Mittens looked at him as if he were normal. So did George, and definitely John.</p><p>Richard is ruining that, and Paul's growing a little paranoid himself from the mere thought of it.</p><p>"I remember.." He trailed off, patting the pillows distractedly. "Kissing him in the kitchen, there was music playing in the background, I remember."</p><p>Arms were thrown around Liam's neck, the other  man backing Paul up against the kitchen counter leaving the younger leant right beside a knife he conveniently left out to cut through some meat. Liam pulled away from a messy kiss that the younger initiated a couple of seconds earlier when the two of them had first stumbled into the kitchen, his blue eyes lingering on the small smirk on Paul's face as he felt his hand up the man's thigh, to grip at his waist. "God you're beautiful. I'm so glad you gave me a chance, like seriously, I'm kind of surprised that you did."</p><p>"Was it a night you'd die for?" Paul remembered himself asking Liam, explaining himself animatedly to Mittens as well as the other cat that casually strolled into the room, approaching the two of them, and springing hisself up onto the bed as well. Liam would've smiled at Paul taking in the question, nodding his head as he raised his palm up to lovingly brush it up against Paul's cheek. Paul purred coquettishly, focusing his emotionless eyes on Liam as he growled out  a deep: "Good." Right afterwards, in a split of three seconds, his hand reached for the knife before Liam could even fathom what Paul was doing.</p><p>"I think I stabbed him around eight times." Paul nonchalantly confessed, elegantly tracing his fingers against the design of the sheets, before turning away, trekking round the room to gather different clothing that's been shedded carelessly, carrying whatever he could find into a basket where John dumped his used clothes. Mittens and the other cat's eyes followed his movement, ears perked, tails alert as they listened to the man. "I don't know why I did it, he was a nice guy and he meant well. There's just this desperate urge to do it whenever I get the chance to."</p><p>Paul remembers Liam staggering painfully into the bathroom, his hands gripping onto the counter as he violently hacks up clots of dark blood into the bathroom sink. Paul's silently snailing behind him with the knife held taut in his grip, his shirt and face all covered with <em>red</em>, the liquid had spurt out everywhere during the second blow to Liam's chest. Paul found Liam collapsing on the floor in the bathroom, convulsing as chills spotted his body. Paul cocked his head to the side, eyes dark wondering why the man had barged in there instead of rushing to his phone to call 911, but the question didn't prosper long since he continued to close in on poor Liam, backing the man up against the shower door.</p><p>"Please, Paul, baby -" Liam sputtered out through his blood drowned mouth, bloodshot eyes widening within each second, his shaking and blood soaked hands held out in front of him. "D-Don't do this, baby this is <em>not</em> you. Please just put the knife down and I'll leave you alone." He pleaded, and Paul hesitated for a little bit, freezing up when those words had exited through Liam's mouth, right up until the voices came back which made him get back into the groove.</p><p><em>Slam</em>.</p><p>Paul jumped, as well as the cats, all of them beginning to scurry around in the room until familiar voices penetrated the area. "This is my fault! I don't care, like I seriously don't care what you have to say because if I didn't call in then maybe she would've taken that time to be with her family!" Cynthia had screamed at someone, sounding hysterical as the sound of footsteps hurdling in made Paul incredibly anxious for a reason relating to almost being heard explaining the death of a still missing body to a fucking cat. However, Cynthia being so mad had startled him since the girl was always so bubbly and annoying to him the few times he'd see Cyn. </p><p>"It's no one's fault, Cyn don't blame yourself for this, please. Marline she - there was nothing we could have done for her, she made that decision." Came another voice, a male, oh that <em>had</em> to be Stuart. So where's John? Paul picked up Mittens after getting annoyed from the persistent feeling of the cat snuggling against his legs, purring in pleasement, building a rapport with the feeling of Paul's presence. </p><p>"Stuart, she fucking killed herself, and none of us decided to check in. Like I know you don't work there but even you could have called her to see how she's feeling. I gave you her number!" Cynthia had argued, her grief and frustration boiling through her words as she talked to Stuart unkindly. </p><p>Stuart had grasped her wrist, voice stern. "Don't try this shit with me, none of us knew that Marline was going to kill herself! Don't you start lashing out on others because like you said, all of us failed her!"</p><p>Paul curiously listened in, wondering who the hell they were talking about until John's voice came through.</p><p>The auburn haired man ran his fingers through his hair at least several times, the anxious routine making his hair grow messy. "Guys <em>please</em>," He began, voice shaking and his cheeks flushed, Cynthia finally witnessed how teary John's eyes had slightly been throughout their whole trip coming home. She'd been too busy arguing with Stuart over this situation, she hadn't been paying attention to an extremely silent, uncharacteristically upset John Lennon. "If you're going to argue about this then leave, Paul still might be here and he's been anxious all night last night. I don't need you two bickering about this, I'm anxious too you know."</p><p>"So if you're going to stay here, please be quiet. I don't feel too good." John said, his voice fragile, sounding as if he were on the brink of tears but sure enough, he wasn't. Stuart looked diligently surprised at that sudden revelation, he'd never seen John so down until now, to be frank he'd settle on this being the most upset he'd ever seen the younger being. Cynthia had sighed out in exhaustion, nodding her head in understanding and rubbing at her eyes while John looks away from them to straighten up his posture, beginning to move towards his bedroom without any other words. </p><p>As soon as John had been out of sight, Stuart tugged onto Cynthia's hand, an apologetic look in his eyes. "Come on, come here. Let's just hug. Give me a hug, we all need one." There was no argument between them as Cynthia sniffed, growing emotional as she wrapped her arms around Stuart and buried her face into his neck, sobbing as he rubbed calming circles into her backside. "It's been a long day, we'll be okay, alright? It's alright."</p><p>John walked into his bedroom, sluggish, red face as he held successfully back tears of his own. Paul's eyes followed him, Mittens meowing loud enough to startle both John and Paul. John squeaked, his eyes widening in fear for a couple of seconds until he realized that Paul had been awake and holding onto his cat as if Mittens were a newborn baby. "You scared me, I didn't even see you there." He forced out in a laughing voice, looking a bit relieved but still upset as the other cat jumped down from the bed to greet John with an affectionate leg snuggle. "Aw hi Rocky, I missed you too." </p><p>Paul put Mittens down, walking over towards John, feeling awkward as he attempted to reach out and touch him. John's attention was on his cat, so it should be easier to just - he reached out to tap John's arm, blushing embarrassingly when John looked up from his cat to meet Paul's eyes. "Hi." Paul managed, not really understanding why he felt so tongue tied, especially now since John seemed to look rarely upset but Paul couldn't really tell. "Thanks for um letting me sleep over, even though I started acting crazy last night and you know."</p><p>"You weren't acting crazy. Of course I'd let you sleep over, it's whatever. Just glad you feel better." John said, a sad smile on his face that made Paul stare at him blankly for a couple of seconds, gaining enough courage that came out of the blue to caress John's cheek which made the older become completely still from the sudden contact. </p><p>"You sound so tired, and you look upset." Paul had distractedly described, focusing on the look of remoteness sheltered in John's expression, his thumb brushing softly against John's cheek. </p><p>John blinked slowly, eyebrows furrowed as he eyed Paul's hand, growing confused. "Paul what are you doing?"</p><p>"Touching your face?" John couldn't help but to fall into the warmth despite being confused, stepping closer to Paul since the man just seems so <em>addicting</em> to be around, physically especially. Paul stared at John with a firm look on his face as he removed his hand, really curious as to why the man even wanted to ask that question but still he draped his arms John's waist when the older tiredly hugged him. "Why'd you ask that?"</p><p>"Because, it's like." John blinked, just now noticing how tired he seems now that he's pressed against a gentle warmth, his breath hitching in his throat. "Nevermind, I'll tell you later."</p><p>These 'neverminds' and 'forget its' are going to kill him. However, John's 'nevermind' had been personal in a way. Paul's pretty sure that something happened earlier, but he decided to just release John and watch as the older move over towards the bed, climbing into it slowly with a measured expression until he realized something. "Did you make my bed?" John asked, looking over towards Paul who stood in the same spot, John beginning to look a little flattered when the younger nodded his head at him. "Thank you Paul."</p><p>Paul smiled, his hands fidgeting. </p><p>Since John eventually fell asleep without much talking between the two of them, Paul walks out of the room with his head lowered and mind in focus. George had no idea of the molding feeling he gave Paul after that phone call, miniscule anger ready to release itself but not quite due to the hosts' hesitance, and the broadening concern for John. Paul had a bag of the clothes he wore yesterday in his hand, ready to depart into his own house to do some 'clean up' until he'd been stopped by a sudden hand firmly clasping his shoulder. Paul stilled, pausing midwalk to whisk around and see whoever the hell slapped their hand on his shoulder that goddamn hard, for a brief seconds he expected to see Cynthia but - </p><p>"Oh, you're - um." Stuart stammeres as he blinks, furrowing his eyebrows at the other man, roaming his eyes over Paul's face, confounded by the sight before him. "So you're Paul? I thought you'd look different." He muttered, tilting his head as Paul narrows his eyes a little bit, one eyebrow raising at Stuart in speculation. "I'm Stuart." </p><p>Oh, great. Paul put on a charming smile, much to the prominent distate washing over his figure. "Nice to finally meet." He uttered in a even voice, thanking whomever lives up in the clouds that it worked enough to melt off the clear hesitance in Stuart's expression, Paul's thoughts rustling uneasy in the warmth of the older man's stare. Before Stuart could say anything else though, Cynthia debuted again with a sour face as she chewed unenthusiatically on a grape that she plucked from her palm. Paul's smile faded, his mind going haywire with irritation, the only. five words coursing throughout his bustling head at the moment is 'please don't talk to me' in repeated repetition. </p><p>"Paul, oh hi. John told us that you were here." Cynthia kindly greeted despite her grieving mood, approaching the two young men with a sad smile, parking right next to Stuart. Paul hummed silently, looking down at the floor for a brief second to accumalate enough awkwardness that would make them go away. Cynthia glanced at Stuart, both of them exchanging unknowing looks towards each other on how to keep the conversation going right up until Cynthia had cleared her throat. "Um John told us that you were feeling anxious? I hope everything is fine, I mean I understand why anyone would feel anxious there's a nutjob going around killing people."</p><p>Stuart added on, staring at Cynthia. "Not people Cyn. Young men, abducting, kidnapping, murdering." He listed, watching at how Cynthia began to grow restless, nodding her head while murmuring 'yeah, yeah I get it' over and over again as Stuart continued to list out the possible extent to what's been happening to those lost lives. "And it's not a nutjob, there's an actual person out there who's probably among us, killing innocent young men." </p><p>Paul lifted his head up, jaw clenched. "I'm feeling fine now, I was about to go home actually." </p><p>Stuart looked at Paul, his eyebrows knitting together, as he darted his eyes across Paul's features once again. "Well, okay. I'm glad you're feeling better, stay safe out there." </p><p>Cynthia cut in, curiosity digging at her since she finally had the chance to really talk with Paul, but not exactly by herself since she's a little shy around people she didn't really know. "I just want to know, are you John's boyfriend? Because he's never really told me if you two are really official or not." The question came out of nowhere, digging up an unconscious feeling that Paul could have sworn he wanted to put in a drawer at first. Stuart nudged her, quietly scolding her on such a suddenly personal question as Paul's cheeks slowly transitioned into a light red color. </p><p>Paul scratched the back of his head, nerves settling in. "I don't um - I don't really know." He stammered, unsure as to how he could really digest a question like that. God it seems as if these sudden questions are purposely asked to make him go through a rollercoaster ride of emotions before submitting into him finally blacking out on himself. Cynthia gave him an apologetic look, murmuring a gentle 'sorry' since Stuart basically told her that a query like that is inappropriate at the moment. </p><p>-</p><p>2002</p><p>"Jesus Mary." Jim mumbled, his palm lying flat on Paul's forehead. "He's burning up. It seems like he's getting worse." He said, glancing down from his worried wife to skim his eyes over the sight of his son's flushed face, heavy lidded eyes that weren't closed but just lethargically gazing past his mother's head to gawp at the corner of the ceiling. Mary feared that Paul might've been dying at that very moment, his breathing slow paced and raspy, barely blinking his eyes at anything at all. More so anyone. Such inactivity for an almost four year old boy, as well as such a bad fever for someone his age just to really recover from. </p><p>"Should we take him to the hospital again?" Mary asked, her voice filled with worry as she brushed her hand along Paul's hair, wincing a bit from the spots that seemed extremely hotter than others. Jim drew in his cheek, not really sure if they should go back to the hospital since it'd be their third time they'd show up throughout the day, their dozenth time that week. The doctors stated that they couldn't conjure up a diagnoses for Paul's sudden illness, calling it a rare infection but never actually figuring out the name of it. </p><p>Symptoms seemed too much for a little boy. Ridiculous rashes all on his backside, some scattered on his chest, extreme nausea, a difficulty breathing, respiratory issues such as chest congestion that makes the boy cough violently and a gruesome sore throat. Paul first fell suit for the illness when he attended the park with his father, walking around with a innocent but straight faced expression until he ran into some other kid crying after falling off of the swing. Paul had approached him, eyebrows furrowed and his lips parting to ask whether the other child was okay or not until he looked at the wound on the kid's leg. Blood trickled down the boy's shin, the gash looking nasty enough to cause Paul's face to scrunch up briefly in disgust before he cocked his head to the side, staring wide eyed at the severely gaping wound.</p><p>Paul shivered, and his bottom lip trembled witnessing the boy continuing to cry from the injury to his leg. Not really a child to show much emotion, Paul began to cry silently with his teeth clenched tightly together, his widened eyes never leaving the blood pouring down the leg of the other boy. A headache swarmed him, a voice that he couldn't understand telling him to - <em>to just</em> - "Stop it. Stop that." He heard himself saying, breathing quickly, capturing the other boy's attention as Paul took a bold step forward. "Stop it!" Paul cried out, making the injured boy flinch from the unforgettable sound of Paul's little voice, the way it seems as if another <em>deeper</em> voice came out at the same time.  </p><p>The injured kid only cried more, finally attracting parents to rush towards the two kids. Paul's breath hitched, a gasp leaving his hips as he became yanked up into his concerned father's arms. "Paul? James? What's wrong boy?" Jim questioned, holding onto Paul as the boy shuddered against him with widened eyes, tears continuing to streak down his cheeks. "Paul? Answer me come on." </p><p>Paul's breathing picked up, his eyes squeezing closed. God he felt - he <em>felt</em> -</p><p>"Paul! Paul baby look at me!" Mary demanded one afternoon, pure fear in her eyes as Paul continued screaming despite his throat being ripped apart from the illness continuing to drive through him, tears rolling down his reddened, scalding cheeks as he kicked and pushed at his parents. "You have to take your medicine! Come on, stop fighting me!" </p><p>Paul shrieked out a long yell, twisting and crying, pulling at the sheets as Mary tried her best to hold him down against his bed. His eyes were still clenched closed, his little body strewn into a pit of malnourishment with the virus, Mary didn't understand where Paul equipped this strength from but she sure enough came to a conclusion that she needed some type of help with her son. Not even at the extent of administering medicine to him, but instead she needs help in a different way. </p><p> </p><p>"Thank you for coming Father Eric." Jim says welcomingly, greeting the priest with a smile as he  nods his head gently, holding the door opened as the middle aged pastor stepped in, his cassock flowing down to his shoes, almost brushing against the floor from the way it draped off of him. </p><p>"It's my pleasure Mister McCartney, and Mrs McCartney." Father Eric said, holding his minature bible against his chest as he nodded his head kindly at the couple. "How old is your son? Give me a time span as to when this illness began."</p><p>"He's turning four in a couple of months." Mary answered, her smile fading as Jim wrapped an encouraging arm around her waist, pulling the woman close to him and kissing gently at the side of her head. "I don't know - it started the day after Jim took him to his favorite park, and he witnessed a kid bleeding. I don't know, I think that's his first time ever seeing a real life injury."</p><p>Jim added on to that, his face looking  distraught as well as the shakiness to his voice when he explained what happened at the park the best he could. "He told the kid to stop doing something, I don't know if he meant stop crying or - I just don't really know what made him so upset." The man stammered, grounding himself back down before his worrisome emotions could get the best of him. "Like I explained over the phone to you, he's been having up and down fevers, throwing up, or just zoning out. Our Paul's not responding to us at all, he starts fighting us whenever we try to give him medicine and it's -"</p><p>"We feel like there's nothing we could do." Mary tearfully finished, being offered a handkerchief from Father Eric, along with a gentle, slightly reassuring shoulder pat from the man. Jim had been given a shoulder pat too, accompanied with a nod of understanding. </p><p>"I'll pray over him like you've asked. God has never disappointed us or let us down. I'm sure he'd help Paul through the turbulent illness brought upon him."</p><p>With that being said, the couple waited downstairs, Mary's hands clutched into Jim's as the priest cautiously headed up the stairs. Paul twitched in his slumber from the sounds he could hear of someone treading up the stairs, lying peacefully in his cookie monster onesie since he'd been shivering violently earlier due to a reoccuring coldness that had him whimpering helplessly into his plush blanket. Father Eric followed the directions Jim told him, grasping at the door handle and giving it a gentle twist to peel it opened wide enough to see the formation of the poor boy bundled up underneath some covers. </p><p>Paul's eyes blinked opened, a long breath being drawn in into his lungs from the footsteps approaching him. Father Eric looked around the room for a brief second, seeing toys and a couple of stuff animals lying around the bedroom, signifying that the boy has been out of bed a few times throughout the day. The light hadn't been on due to Paul quickly growing hot because of the brightness, and a fighting headache would debut because of it, so there had been several candles strawn about the dim room. Father Eric hummed at that, feeling content with the atmosphere since it'd be like this in his church in a way. </p><p>Paul turned on his backside after gathering himself awake, unintentionally releasing a sigh throughout his body before it concluded into a fit of breathy coughs. "Goodness," Father Eric breathed out, feeling sympathy from how sweaty and flushed the little boy looked, setting down the mini bible to pull a small case out from the inside pocket of his cassock.</p><p>Paul frowned, staring loosely at the priest, breathing heavily through his parted mouth. "What's that?" The boy asked, voice wobbly and breathy from the unknown illness raiding through him.</p><p>"It's ointment." Father Eric replied, removing the little bottle from the case and holding it above the boy's eyes. "I put this on your head and pray over you. God will tend to you."</p><p>At the mention of God, a strong headache invaded Paul's head causing the child to cry out in pain, twisting in the bed as his little hands immediately grasped at his head. Father Eric reached out to grasp at his hand, his breath hitching from the hotness of Paul's skin agains this palm. Jesus, the boy's close to death with this fever. Whatever medicine they've given him hadn't worked at all, it's a bit back and forth since it's clear enough that Paul's been up and walking at some point. </p><p>Paul shuddered, teary and in pain as the priest oiled his forehead. Twisting his wrist in Father Eric's firm grip, Paul whined out in agony, tugging his arm as he cried softly into the air. "Dear Father thou art in heaven -" Father Eric began, overspeaking the cries as they began to grow louder, louder into they had vanished into screams while the priest continued to pray, holding the small cross over the both of them. Paul slapped at Father Eric's hand, his eyes wide with tears falling down his cheeks as he twisted and screamed, the sounds of his cries flowing downstairs. </p><p>Mary dug her face into Jim's chest as her husband rocked them side to side. </p><p>At least three hours passed when Father Eric came down stairs, a pleased smile on his face as he greeted the exhausted parents. "Please, follow me, I've broke his fever. Right now he's quiet, and he's stopped crying. Come quickly, God has graced us." </p><p>Exchanging hopeful looks, Mary and Jim rushed over towards the priest, following him up the steps while they held onto each other's hands. Father Eric lead them throughout the foyer, walking with his hands clasped behind his back while the three of them breezed through the hallway and made their way towards the ajar door of Paul's bedroom. Father Eric opened it up wide enough for the two parents to trek in, Jim's breath hitching as he caught sight of Paul sitting up in his bed, looking sweaty but having color come back to his face. Mary broke away form her husband, rushing to her child and gathering him up in his arms as she sniffed in worry. As said, Paul's fever had broken, his body still warm but not as outrageously hot as before. </p><p>Paul blinked slowly, growing dazed and confused. Mary held him close, murmuring: "My sweet baby, I'm so worried." She cooed, running her fingers through his damp hair, lifting him up off of the bed as Paul hiccuped into her shoulder before burying his face into the crook of her neck. Jim stared at them, wide eyed with some type of stunned smile on his face before he craned his head, looking over towards the priest with a grateful expression. </p><p>"I don't even know how to thank you -" </p><p>"Jim!" Both the priest and Jim whipped their heads into the direction of Mary. The woman pulled away, tilting Paul's head up as she shuddered. "His nose is bleeding!" She cried out, having both the priest and Jim rush over to Paul, the boy still looking dazed and non respinsive despite his fever dying down. Father Eric gasped softly, shock bolting through him as his hands tightened its grip on the mini cross whilst he watched as the parents tended to Paul's bleeding nose, his throat tightening when he noticed something. </p><p>The three year old boy had been staring at him. </p><p>-</p><p>"You freaked out yesterday. Now you want to be all touchy again, I don't understand. You went from, I can't do this to wanting to pull me close." John said as he tied the yarn of the handmade bracelet into a tight knot, beads that spelt out 'paul x john'  being draped around his wrist. Paul gripped at the chair he sat in, silence roaring through his body as he breathed in harshly from his mask before ultimately taking it off to actually get some air into his lungs. John looked over at him with big eyes, "Hey, what are you doing? Put your mask back on."</p><p>"I can't breathe through it." Paul bluntly said, he sounds like one of those people that never like following the rules for the safety of others. "But anyway, I was just thinking, and my thoughts got ahead of me in the meantime. I don't believe that there's any  specific meaning about whatever I did." He mumbled, looking down at the picture book that he had opened to a random page to make it seem like he's diving into something. </p><p>"But you mentioned that you care about me." John said in a small voice, playing with the bracelet as his heart began to skip a couple of beats. Paul tensed up creasing the page a little where his fingers tightened around the edges of the paper, a quiver knocking the breath out of his lungs. John looked away, staring down dejectedly at the supplies splayed out on the public table used to make the bracelets. John slumped his posture, exhaling with a look of uncertainty. "Are you saying that there's no meaning behind that?" </p><p>Paul chewed down on his bottom lip for a couple of tense seconds, narrowing his eyes at nothing in particular. "Does it matter?" He eventually queried, capturing John's innocent eyes again, Paul glanced at him with a dead look of his own. "Answer me. Does it matter?"</p><p>John blinked, nodding his head eagerly as he turned towards the younger. "Yes it matters!"</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Because I love you." John sputtered out without any hesitation, digging his fingers into his pants leg as he tried to gather enough air in his brain to tread back a little. Paul looked away from John quickly, his cheeks flushing into a color of bright red, hands settling flatly on the table while his heart stomped against his eardrum. It's one thing to come to terms with it inside of his own head, but to hear John say it out loud is entirely another thing. </p><p>"What did I say about that?" Paul asked when he turned his head to face John again, his voice deep and penetrative enough to make John cower a little bit, but the older still stood his ground nontheless. "You're not - just stop trying to force whatever <em>that</em> is onto me." </p><p>John blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. "Love? Paul I just can't stop it. It's been going on for a long time now, and it's okay if you feel the same way." He said, some type of plead in his voice that Paul couldn't entirely decipher since his own brain had been racking up enough overthinking. "You said you care about me, and I seen something in your eyes that tells me something. Like you're falling for me too. I'm not going crazy either because I can see it right now." </p><p>"I don't -" Paul began his demeanor darkening,  no longer being imprisoned on 'spare John's feelings' autopilot as he picked up his mask, putting it back on, "I don't know what I'm feeling when I'm around you." He stated while beginning to stand up from the chair. "But it's not love, and it will <em>never</em> be. So get it out of your head." </p><p>John's breath hitched, not even recognizing this man just now. "What? Paul you -" </p><p>"Get up so I can drive you home." Paul said, cutting him off rudely as he stuck his hands into his pockets, beginning to walk towards the entrance of the art shop they attended. John just sat there at their table, confused and genuinely hurt from what was said. How could he go from Paul, to <em>Paul </em>in such a short span of a few seconds? Paul whom stared at him fondly in the coffee shop before Brian walked in, the Paul who playfully tacked him onto the couch that same afternoon, the Paul that made him blackout with pleasure and the Paul who broke down in front of him too. The Paul that told him he cares about him, </p><p>To this - the guy that basically just stomped on his feelings, and an anticlimatic love confession that John had to muster up. </p><p>What the actual hell? </p><p>John looked around, analyzing the mess on the table, trying his best to keep his composure since a family walked into the shop. Still he could feel his heart cracking on the inside just a little bit. Maybe Paul is just having one of his mood swings, there's ones where he gets quiet and disassociating, there's ones where he gets quiet but still likes to be physical, obviously there's ones that ends up having John's throat sore from moaning too much. However - this one sent chills down John's spine.</p><p>Paul didn't seem like himself when he said those words. John noticed his eyes were dark, and his muscles seemed tense, not even sure as to why Paul got like that. Little did he know that's usually the last sight the victims would see when they see an expression like that on Paul's face. As John gathers everything, Paul is standing outside, his eyes distant and emotionlesss as he gazes up at the extremely cloudy skies. Suddenly flashes of the hurt look on John's face blinds him enough to have him stumble back a little bit, blinking feverishly to regain control of himself. "The fuck was that?" Paul questioned under his breath, his chest clenching.</p><p>Soon enough, a familiar headache hits him.  </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>April 2021</em>
</p><p>"It's not much but - it's kind of the best I could do." John said, his hands shaking with nervousness as he circled around Cynthia who'd been raising the long sheet of paper that had been his portrait up. Since Paul fucking vanished on him after breaking his heart and dropping him off back at home without sparing him a passing glance, John tried his best to finish what Paul had done and colored it in the best he could. Stuart helped a little, using his past art experience to give John some tips on what he should do next if he wants the portrait to look as realistic as it could be. "So is it enough? For me to pass the art class?"</p><p>Professor Spence had tilted his head, eyeing the drawing firmly as Cynthia held it up closer with aching arms since the Professor had been scrutinizing it over the last fifteen minutes. John bit his lip, the nervousness in his expression hidden by his mask, but the body language on the other hand is giving every tension in his body away. Fingers twiddling, feet shuffling against the floor as his eyes darted back and forth from the portrait to Professor Spence. </p><p>"Hm, well John. I expected the full body to be entirely finished by the deadline." Spence began, crossing his arms over his chest, looking judgemental, not really unmoved which made John's heart drop. "I don't know if I can give this a passing grade since a lot of what should be on the rubric is <em>missing</em> from your project." </p><p>John furrowed his eyebrows, his chest warming up as blood rushed throughout his body, throat burning. "But I - it's been a long three months and I'm not really having the best time of my life outside of doing classwork so can you just please give me a good grade on this?"</p><p>Spence made a face at that request, thorough disappointment in his glare as he shook his head at John. "This is your future John, I'm not sure what you were told in highschool, but you won't be able to slide with anything like this. I'm not babying you, I gave you enough time on this -"</p><p>John's patience had finally exploded, a rare second where he began to lash out that caused both his professor and Cynthia to be stunned to a brink of true surprise. "Fine! Give me an F then, I don't give a fuck anymore! I'm fucking sick of you and your backwards schedules, you inconsiderate piece of shit." He spat out, voice trembling, his eyes watering with tears of frustration all bottled up inside of him. Cynthia gasped out his name, accidentally dropping the portrait while John rubbed ferociously at his teary eyes, refusing to release a single tear. </p><p>At least in front of his best friend and professor. </p><p>Spence tilted his chin up, puffing his chest out. "Is that how you <em>really</em> feel Lennon?"</p><p>"Yes- I mean n-no! I didn't mean to say that, I just -" John panicked, stuttering over himself, suddenly not being able to breathe correctly through his mask. "Please I just -" God he couldn't find any words to excuse his sudden outburst, and Cynthia couldn't help but to watch him helplessly. One time a few years ago John got extremely mad at her to a point where he began to actually curse at her, she still feels like a terrible person for that by the way, there's no way she'd forget it. </p><p>"Get out of my classroom John." </p><p>It only took a few seconds for John to storm out of the classroom in sheer embarassment and shame, bursting through the doubled hallway doors, speedwalking down the hall with his fingers clutching onto his hair. Fuck, that's great. Isn't it just fucking <em>sweet</em>? John losing his coworker, failing his class, lashing out at his professor as if he lost his mind, not even knowing where the fuck Paul is, and not even knowing what his <em>relationship</em> with Paul is at this point either. Jesus it's becoming <em>too</em> much for him to take with a heavy heart. Too many things he cared about had been going wrong, the smile he'd put on his face no longer being as pure. </p><p>God his mental state is just - deteriorating, a slow but painful rase to the ground 0 level of his sanity. John couldn't really tell though, he's afraid to put in any notice the way he's been struck with insomia, not really having an appetite the last couple of days. John rushed into one of the bathrooms feeling emotional, breathing heavily through the rumbling of sadness in his chest, ignoring Cynthia's calls for him to wait up and come back for them to have a talk about it. Right now, John just <em>needs</em> to be alone for a couple of minutes, dwell silently in his thoughts as he sunk down the wall of the bathroom to plant himself on the floor, his knees pressed up to his chest and his forehead pressing against his folded arms. </p><p>Surpressing a soft cry, he rocked side to side, shuddering feverishly in the vacant bathroom since a lot of other students left the premises awhile ago. John and Cynthia only stayed behind since they wanted to finish the portrait as best as they could in the artroom. John's shoulders shook as he cried, missing Paul, just missing the brighter side of every situation in general. However, Paul's absence and their last words together did provide him some input that they're in a complex place right now. </p><p>John cried for at least several minutes, his legs sinking fully to the floor after awhile while he rubbed at the back of his eyes, his head leaning back against the wall. "Fuck. Why am I crying over you? I caught feelings for you too fast, and now you've disappeared on me." He managed, talking to Paul but not really talking to Paul since <em>Paul's</em> not fucking here. John wonders where he could find the younger man, thinking about where the hell he could find someone that's related to Paul or just a close friend to him. </p><p>Paul always refered to a friend sometimes, John remembers. He's pretty sure that he met his friend at least once, or maybe twice? John furrowed his brows, breath hitching as he began to realize something. </p><p>Holy shit, George! John <em>totally</em> forgot about him. How does he get into contact with George? He's just as much as a lost cause as Paul. So what should he do? John thought about it promisingly, sitting there on the floor in his own thoughtful silence while his cheeks continued to be blanketed in his tears. George seems friendly enough, and he's one of Paul's close friends, so whenever he gets into contact with him it should be easy enough to converse with him about Paul. </p><p>Where ever Paul is by now. John's truly upset at him, but he's missed him a lot to really care about how his outer feelings felt. When he gets into contact with Paul again, there's no way he's just going to let what the younger said just slide past him as if it were nothing big. John sniffed and let out a shaky breath, taking his mask off to wipe at his nose with the paper towel he got from the dispenser above him. Okay he needs to get himself together before he could pull this off, possibly seeing Paul again, he couldn't wait to confront him about their last conversation and plus him basically abandoning John. </p><p>A gentle knock on the bathroom door made him tense up a bit, a soft surprised sound leaving his lips. Cynthia paused, ready to knock again if she has to but instead she used her voice. "John? Hey, let me in. I want to make sure you're okay, I never seen you blow up like that in awhile and I'm a little worried." She said gently, neatly rolling up the portrait in her hands as she waited for John to verbally allow her to open the door. Instead, she only got a hesitant response from a clearly shaky voice. "This is the men's bathroom though."</p><p>"John, babes, you walked into the women's bathroom."</p><p>"Oh." John mumbled absently under his breath, exhaling to get his thoughts together into one place, and also feeling a bit dumb at the moment as he shifted his legs, slowly standing up off of the floor. Just to be careful of his future actions, he went to wash his hands since he'd been sitting on the public restroom floor which wasn't exactly the most sanitary. "You can come in, sorry." John eventually said with an even voice, rubbing the soap all over his palms, between his fingers and cleaning out his nails although they weren't really dirty, just for the official satisfaction of having clean hands. </p><p>Cynthia opened the door slowly, peeking her head in first to get a good look at John's physicial status before walking into the bathroom all of the way, letting the heavy door close behind her while she approached her friend near one of the sinks. "Hey, everything's going to be fine. Professor Spence is an asshole, he's always been. Last year I almost had to retake his class because he wanted to be difficult on about a test that he didn't even <em>teach</em> us about."</p><p>John giggled softly at the comedic tone in Cynthia's voice, dejection still premiering in his eyes though. "It's not just him though. I'm upset about a lot of things."</p><p>Cynthia's facial expression hardened, a frown beginning to make its way through. "Is it because of Paul? I thought I told you to forget about him, didn't he break your heart back in early Feb?" She asked, her voice lowering when John had turned the water off with his head bowed down in some type of critical thought scheme. Cynthia had been called by a <em>very </em>upset John around the last time any of them had last seen Paul, and he basically told her what Paul said at that art shop along with the strangely quiet car ride back home. John questioned him once during the ride, but Paul seemed to far gone too even give him an answer or even try to fanthom what question had been asked. Although he didn't cry that night, being close to crying, John just distracted himself by tending to his school work and listening to his cats play around with each other. </p><p>Cynthia remembered the time where she walked into John's study room to make conversation with him, seeing Paul sitting there with a soft expression on his face when the man literally told her: "I like him too." Refering to John. So what the hell happened for Paul to suddenly twist John's feelings up like that out of the blue? John's not the person for someone to just turn around and end up being ridiculously rude to, playing with his feelings, somewhat leading him on until John is thinking about said <em>someone</em> for months. </p><p>Stuart had been more confused than mad, remembering the hesitance in Paul's voice when he said he didn't know whether or not him and John were officially a thing. To be frank, Stuart had thought so since John hinted it to him awhile ago, but Paul seems to uncomfortable to admit that - sadly Stuart understands the hesitance since he's the same way with people he gets intimately close with. When he sees it with Paul though, it seemed entirely different than what he usually perceives as being hesitant with starting an official relationship. There's some fear sheltered in his eyes there, along with <em>something else</em>. God he just didn't know what. </p><p>John removed a couple of paper towels out of dispenser, wiping his hands off dry. "I just can't get him out of my head Cyn, I tried to forget him numerous times but I always find myself thinking about him. Thinking about what could have went wrong at that exact moment where he just got mad at me and said that." He said, trying his best to actually explain why it's so hard for him to just forget about Paul as if the man didn't live in his head day to day. "I just need to talk to him again, he didn't seem like himself when he said it. I - God I feel like.. I don't know."</p><p>"John," Cynthia sighed, grasping at his forearm to actually bring his attention over towards her. John looked over at her, his eyes sparkling with such endearing hopefulness that gutted Cynthia a little bit, if she knew John would become <em>this</em> hooked up on Paul she would have intervened a long time ago. "Are you sure?" Came a query from the blonde hair girl, making John stand still in uncertain silence, the sound of the water dripping from the sink faucet ringing in his ears. </p><p> Paul is genuinely charming, his mere presence attracting the eyes of folks and initimidating them at the same time, even with the mask covering most of his face. John fell suit to this man immediately, such a few amount of words shared between them in their first meeting but the hot tension gathering between them followed them to their hearts. Two different worlds colliding. John's not a closed off, emotionless, and observant man like Paul is most of the time. Instead he can be depicted as an extrovert instead, a person who loves to smile and laugh with people, just having new or old friends around him. </p><p>John is pure enough to give people multiple chances once crossed by him, but then he's grown enough to know which lines should and should not be crossed over. Paul crossed a line where John finds himself being available to forgive him, even though it's near one of the lines that should not be crossed at all, in spite of that - </p><p>Paul is blatantly just a different bloke that came into his life.</p><p>John wants to talk to him again, retrace his steps and try to persuade Paul to at least explain why he doesn't think he's capable of having any feelings for John. Maybe not specifically, but in a way perhaps? John confessed to him how he felt, Paul ended up looking queasy and a bit caught off guard before that <em>shadow</em> became casted over his face again. John knows Paul feels at least <em>something </em>and the 'something' is not even his words<em>. </em>John remembers when George came along with Paul into the coffee shop that one day, spilling the beans and everythingabout Paul liking him, fucking talking about him. So what else could Paul be hiding?</p><p>"Yes, I'm sure." John said, and he is sure.  </p><p> </p><p>Lily shivered in her sleep, a warm blanket draped over her as she breathed in shakily. In her mind, there'd been almost complete darkness until echoes of her father's screaming coursed throughout her isolated head, the eight year old whimpering into her pillow as she clutched onto the blankets. Lily remembers everything but she also <em>doesn't</em> remember everything, things that occured that winter night when that strange man broke into her room, seeing only a couple of glimpses of his face but Lily couldn't bring herself to remember his full appearance without being scared to death. Peter, her older brother, mutedly went into her room to wake her up since their mother finished cooking dinner, dark bags still nestled underneath his eyes from the stress threading throughout him.</p><p>Peter placed his hand on his sister's arm, gasping when Lily's eyes popped opened, his body jolting upwards, her hair falling into her flushed face as she panted panickedly. "I seen him, his face, I seen him again Peter." Her voice little sounds wrecked, well pronounced as she dug her fingers into her hair while her body shook uncontrollably. "The man who killed our father, he's - I seen half of his face this time. I don't even remember his full face but now it looks distinctable."</p><p>Peter's face paled, his lips pressed together for a couple of seconds as he retraced his glare elsewhere. "You can't say anything though. You told me he'd come back and kill you too."</p><p>Lily's strangely quiet, her eyes dead and grey as they looked at the blanket covering her legs. Peter suddenly launched his hand towards her, grasping harshly at her shoulder and shaking her violently. "We <em>aren't</em> in Liverpool anymore, what's going on over there isn't any of our concern anymore. Why would we go back there and get involved in that mess?" He spat out, a frown on his face with widened eyes drenched with fear, the ten year old not even knowing what made sense and what didn't in his sentences.</p><p>Lily swiped his hands off of her with a strangled grunt, moving off of the bed on shaking legs to head over towards her window, spreading the curtains and resting her trembling hands against the sill. "I can't get the image of him out of my head, and it gets more vivid every time I think of him. People are dying in Liverpool and I might have an idea who the killer is. You just want me to sit here? While these people are getting killed?"</p><p>"How do you know if you're so sure." Peter said, not really formulating that as a question, but Lily stared onwards at the clear visuals pouring out of her window, looking into the distance of downtown Durham, England. "What if you end up leading them on wrong and we all get in trouble? It's been almost three years since it happened and it would be weird if you just now say something."</p><p>"I'll tell them what he told me. Like you said, he threatened to kill me. If I just go back to Liverpool one more time, talk to somebody and tell them about what happened to dad - who I've seen - then maybe it could help." Lily explained, her head lowering and her body shuddering as her gut began to groan from the ignition of hunger beginning to brittle through her ribcage, down to her abdomen. "<em>Please</em> I just - I need to know what I can do to help. If I'm wrong then - that's fine, I just want to try."</p><p>Peter sighed, "I don't think mom is going to let us anywhere near Liverpool, but the thing is -" The boy looked up at his sister, meeting her hopeful eyes when she looked back at him over her shoulder. "The murders have gone down. As far as I know, but I haven't heard of anything new there since January."</p><p>Lily blinked her eyes at him with a growing frown on her face, sitfling a hum as she began to avert her eyes back out of the window once again. "But he's still out there. As long as he's still out there Peter, the lack of murders doesn't matter." She said to him, her voice soft and low, ignoring the way her stomach growled. "Where are you?" The girl asked to herself, her voice deepening with a tremor added onto it, her eyes brimming with tears.</p><p>
  <em>You killed my father. Took his shoes, and left our home.</em>
</p><p>Lily clenched her teeth, grinding them together, remembering the <em>smell</em> of her father's corpse in the morning after, the music playing, the scream of her brother and the sound of him rambling uncontrollably to the police. Lily continues to see flashes of the man's face as her brother approaches her, her breathing picking up, something feral beginning to snap inside of her. "I'll make sure he gets locked up <em>forever</em>." She murmured under her breath, hair falling into her face. <em>I'll kill him, I'll fucking kill him</em>.</p><p>Peter stared at his sister concern gathering like ants would gather around a picnic blanket. "Lily," He began, before his breath hitched dramatically in his throat, eyes widening at the chants she'd been making under her breath. "Lily come on, snap out of it. Hey Lily? Lily!"</p><p>Lily squeaked, blinking frantically, just now noticing the tears running down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I - I don't know what I've been saying. I think I'm just hungry."</p><p>"Well, let's go and eat." Peter mumbled, grasping at his sister's wrist to pull her away from the window, leading her out of her bedroom as Lily stared blankly at the floor with a numbed expression on her face. The boy squeezed protectively at her petite wrist, desperately needing his sister to eat <em>something</em> before they could make any other conversations about this situation unfolding in Liverpool.</p><p>Suddenly, a memory filed into her head, making her birth out a htiched sound gasp, her eyes widening.</p><p>
  <em>"Tell anyone you seeing me? I'll come back here and hurt you too. Got it kid?" He questioned, not truly meaning it, but he needs this girl to keep her word. Or else, he'd have to break a rule of his.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Okay m-mister," She stuttered through her tears. "I'm sorry." </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"No, I'm sorry."</em>
</p><p>What did he mean by 'No, I'm sorry' what was the point in saying that and still running away? Most likely to kill other people? Lily tried for a split second to remember a flash of humanity in that man's eyes, but not even a glimpse could have came up in time for her to forget about the memory when her stomach began to growl. The tug on her wrists flushed the thoughts down a temporary space in her head, having her stumble forward but balance her step as the two kids ventured down the stairs.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>a short chapter, i'm not feeling good and when i don't feel good then the quality wouldn't be decent enough. :,)<br/>also i realized that i never do notes on this book lol it's too serious for my poor comedic relief</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"This is my twenty-fifth voicemail to you, which is fine! I don't mind. Just hoping you'd respond back someday because I miss you a lot. Like I said, twenty-five times ago.. I'm sorry for making you upset, <em>again</em>. I think about you all of the time, and if I could go back to reestablish the goal of why you called me in the first place that day, I would." George said, clutching his couch pillow close to his chest as he spoke into the mic of his phone, his side resting against the arm rest of his couch.</p><p>As he talked his eyes were glued onto a polaroid of him and Paul, one that he took two weeks before the comic rally incident when the two of them had left out of town to go to a fun fair.</p><p>George had his arm draped around Paul's neck, a boxy smile plastered on his face as he held the camera up enough with his other hand so that the festive background was in view. Paul on the other hand gave George bunny ears with his two fingers, a small but genuine closed lip smile on his face as he leant his head against George's, staring into the camera with dull eyes that chewed at George's heart once he caught sight of it.</p><p>Jesus, it's <em>always</em> been there, that look in Paul's eyes.</p><p>George squinted at the picture, drawing in a breath as his stomach lurched a little bit from discomfort. "Paul, wherever you are, come back to me. You'd never want to just up and leave on us, even Michael's concerned too -" George paused, sitting up a bit with a more enthusiatic tone in his voice as he continued. "I'm sure John's just as worried."</p><p>If Paul hears that, it may be more convincing for him to fucking respond, come back from whereever the hell he is. Hopefully. "I love you so much, can you just - please call me back when you can? I don't want to call the police for you again, because who knows how you may react. I hope you're okay. Call me back, okay bye." Ending the voicemail, George had put his phone down and went to grab at the polaroid picture, scooting down his couch until he was on his backside, turning and resting on his side with the pillow covering half of his face.</p><p>Brushing his thumb alongside polaroid Paul's face, he began to tear up, sniffling a bit. What is he missing? This makes absolutely <em>no</em> sense to him, how distant he feels from Paul and all, it makes his gut wrench with much unease. God this is so warped, so fucked up, and he feels like he wouldn't be able to get to the bottom of this anytime soon what with Paul being distant, gone off somewhere.</p><p>George feels like such a useless friend to him, he feels like an annoying burden to him but at the same time he feels misunderstood, very uncertain about how Paul is supposed to feel about him.</p><p>Paul's probably thinking about him too right? Or he at least must've had some thoughts about him during his departure, maybe he talks to John about him. George's breath hitched, an idea on how to actually interact with Paul debuting in his head, John must have some connections with him since they're 'romantically' closer. George laid there on the couch for a little bit, rehearsing the thought process going through his brian for the second time around as he sniffed and wiped at his teary eyes.</p><p>If he could end up getting into contact with John, maybe the two could both get Paul to resurface and talk to his dear old friend.</p><p>A reoccuring question that came up in his head is, where the hell is John, and how the fuck is he going to find him? George removed the pillow from his chest, now gripping the polaroid picture in both of his hands, staring at it in a fond manner with aggressive thoughts. Paul, his best friend, a person that George holds dear to his heart is off somewhere without him truly knowing where.</p><p>The last time they spoke to each other, George had been curious enough to ask the older if he'd been capable of hurting somebody, the true depth of that question being revealed once Paul interrogated it out of him. It's not like he's suspecting Paul to be a murderer, it really isn't.</p><p>Yes, Paul can be wickedly violent, but that was predominantly back in his younger teen days. George knew that, like Paul said, he's seen it firsthand. Paul punching someone in the face hard to a point where there jaw seemed to be a bit loose, George having to get involved in one of Paul's fights since the older became outnumbered by a group of older kids (they both lost), but then Paul somehow got into a rematch with one of them and won that time around.</p><p>Although Paul is mysterious, closed off and really distant from him, it doesn't mean that he's automatically a suspect.</p><p>Right?</p><p>"Hello?" Richard answered, yawning tiredly as he throws the trash he picked up off of his floor, icing on the cake after getting motivation to clean his flat. "Who is this?" He asked after a couple of silent seconds, beginning to frown when there hadn't been a clear response yet. Usually he's not the one to get robocalls or prank calls, anything of that sort since he already has some call reader before his phone could actually ring.</p><p>So whose ever fucking around on his line right now must've had some type of personal connection to him, and it brung several thoughts in Richard's head as he began to frown. Richard put his broom away against the wall corner, dust pan stuck onto it before walking out of the pantry room he occupied, and into the clean dining room.</p><p>Richard hummed, putting the phone on speaker when a whole minute passed by. "I said hello? Answer me." There's no signs of any life behind the other line, no heavy breathing or anything. So who in the actual fuck has his number?</p><p>Everything has been going fine since George told him that Paul up and disappeared, even though it did concern Richard a little bit, the death tolls when it ties to the murders decreased shockingly.</p><p>Richard is tempted to point that exact detail out to someone, most likely George and Brian but he isn't entirely sure when the time is right - especially since as far as he knew, Paul is just <em>gone</em>.</p><p>Sucking in and biting the inside of his cheek, Richard tapped on his phone, beginning to edge his finger over towards the hangup button until there'd been a sudden shift from the other line. Richard blinked, frowning and parting his lips: "Uh, who is -"</p><p>"It's me, Brian, sorry about that I couldn't hear you at first. The signal here is weird." Brian had finally said, leveling the rate of Richard's heart beat and clearing his throat before doing some type of stretch in his office. "I've been wondering if everything is going fine, if you've heard or thought of anything suspicious. The murders have stopped momentarily, and I've been trying to reach out to everyone, even Paul since the man requested on working with us."</p><p>Richard's eyes widened a litte bit, and his mouth parting in shock. "Did you get into contact with Paul? George told me that he's not answering his calls, and he's done this to him before. It ended with George calling the police to go check on him." He rambled onwards, not even expecting the subject of Paul to be completely brought up after briefly thinking about him.</p><p>"Oh um, no actually. Also that's new, I've never heard of that before." Brian said, a genuinely surprised look plastered on his face. "Why hasn't George called the police on him again? It's a good way to keep everyone alert about him since I'm assuming that he's missing? Perhaps?"</p><p>Yeah, Paul is missing, somewhat.</p><p>Although isn't it <em>also</em> weird that Paul is missing right at the same time the murders have been suddenly delayed? Is the thought that popped up in Richard's head, but when he felt his tongue hit the roof of his mouth he noticed embrassingly that he spoke this aloud. Brian stifled a thoughtful sound and Richard blushed deeply in embrassment at his running mouth, "God I didn't mean to sound so skeptical. I just find Paul as a strange person, and he kind of has this aura around him that makes me <em>so</em> uncomfortable."</p><p>"No, no, I do find that interesting actually." Brian said, walking behind his desk with a new look in his eyes, a knit in his brow while he took a seat into his chair. "I find that <em>really</em> interesting, do you have any idea why you find his 'aura' negative? I've never really took interest in someone who looks as - I don't know - lithe as Paul to be a suggestion of the killings."</p><p>Richard scratched at the back of his neck, lips twisting to the side in thought as he tries to congregate his answer. "I'm not really sure why I think he's so negative. It's just this feeling I get from him that makes me so uneasy. Also serial killers come in different shapes and forms Brian." Taking in a breath, Richard went to go bite at his nails, deepening his thought process. In a way, he's flying in the air with heavy balls and light wings on this one since he's not exactly sure how embedded Paul could be with these murders.</p><p>Richard does not expect Brian to jump the gun and make Paul an official lead, who knows really? A lot of people could be in the reported list due to paranoia and otherworldly suspicions.</p><p>So Richard can't really be - positive, right?</p><p>Brian chuckled breathlessly, opening his notepad and scribbling Paul's name down on a block labeled just 'possible' the first name starting off with a P in the list of twenty-eight people he wrote down. "I get that murderers are very unique. My apologies, you're absolutely right about that. However Richard, apart from just feeling negative about Paul, do you hypothetically <em>think</em> he's a serial killer? This question should be answered by the first word that pops up in your head, don't overthink it - even though it bares a lot of weight - just hear the thought out with your instinctive answer to it. That is all."</p><p>Richard gripped his phone, clenching his jaw. "Yes."</p><p>The coffee shop opened back up! Although the hours are from 9 am to 1 pm, George still made a little victory fist. They most likely did it because of the lack of crimes doing on, but who really knew what was in mind.</p><p>It looks to George that John is in there doing something already, and with that knowledge he begins to smile with another victory fist. The advantage of asking John where Paul is can come forward even easier, it's right in George's palm, seeing his best friend again after a long while of not seeing him at all. George pushed opened the door, walking inside with alert eyes as John stiffened up in a sudden avalanche of excitement that whomever walked in could be Paul.</p><p>Right now it's 11:15 in the morning and only Paul McCartney would usually walk in at that direct time, so when he whirled around to see the man, he'd be in for a surprise greeting from George.</p><p>Although it dwindled down a little when he dumbly expected a tall figure to emerge from behind George after a couple of seconds, John's excitement was still there along with a flood of relief.  "Oh! Hi George, it's been awhile!" John decided to keep it cool, greeting George first before actually launching himself into a 'where's Paul' discourse. That'd just be plain fucking <em>rude</em>, plus George is a friendly fellow.</p><p>George waved a little at him, somehow becoming shy since his alibi Paul is not by his side with his quiet, but still dominant demeanor making George much more talkative.</p><p>John smiled at him, George couldn't see it, but a smile is there. God he sees why even Paul's brooding personality couldn't cancel out the literal radiating happy machine John is, George finds him incredibly adorable. "I've been wanting to speak with you. Not a long talk, but it's more so just a question -" George began with a soft voice, feeling kind of hesitant as John nodded his head encouragingly. "I'm wondering if you've heard from Paul over the last couple of weeks? Months or you know, just recently as a whole."</p><p>John stared at him with slowly widening eyes, disbelief washing over him as the question sunk into his brain, eliciting a cut off sound of surprise.</p><p>That's what - <em>holy shit</em> - that is exactly what he wanted to ask George! Basically that question told John that Paul is really gone, nowhere to be found and then at the same time, the murderer has never been caught. So what if Paul is - what if Paul is dead? This whole time he could be dead, his <em>closest</em> friend doesn't even know where he is.</p><p>This is not right, something is extremely wrong.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>John shook his head, trying to find his voice. "No I don't know where he is either, and I was willing to find you to see whether or not if you knew too. I'm kind of scared."</p><p>The look of happiness that had once blanketed John's face converted into a blank look, his voice becoming hazy, and lost. George's gut clenched in his stomach, making his hand reach up and caress his abdomen as he nodded slowly. "Oh, okay. I just thought you'd know where he'd be because - you two are more closer than me and him in a way." George couldn't even hear himself talk, his voice not being recognizable, drenched in pure worry and inconsolable sadness.</p><p>Dipping his other hand in his pocket, he brushed his fingers against the polaroid picture, taking it out of the frame and carrying it with him.</p><p>Just in case he'd get this answer.</p><p>With concern etched all over John's face, he looked at George in the eye. "Before he dropped me off at my home, which was the last time I've seen him, he said something really hurtful to me. It may not be important, but he didn't look alright when he said it." John brung up, growing upset at the painful remembrance of what Paul had said to him at the art shop.</p><p>George ogled John, a frown on his face from the confession John made, so he's not the only one who's on bad terms with Paul. "But before that though, he seemed bothered with something already. There was a night where we um did things and then he started having a breakdown, saying he cared about me, and that he didn't want to do 'this' anymore."</p><p>"Woah." George said, not even realizing that he said it until John let out a sad giggle, blushing at the embarrassing utterance and at John's cute laugh, he went on. "Paul had a breakdown in front of you? That's just - wow. I didn't even know he was capable of doing that with someone. He must really love you." George blurted the last part out by accident, cursing himself for being so reckless with his words afterwards since this had been literally the third he'd slipped up and do some shit like that.</p><p>John looks bemused, absolutely nonplussed at the blurt out with an incredibly soft look in his brown eyes that made George want to wrap him up in a blanket, heave him over his shoulder, take him home and tuck him into bed.</p><p>"I feel as if he does, but he told me that he's never going to fall in love with me. I have a feeling he just said that to hurt me, but -" John halted, the abrupt stop in his soft voice and the sudden reaction of stupefaction coating his expression as he looks ahead made George frown. George cocked his head to the side, and took a step forward to place a concerned hand on John's shoulder to bring the older back to earth.</p><p>What the hell? Did he just freeze in mid sentence? George shook him a little by his shoulders, calmly saying his name as John continued to stare ahead with widened eyes.</p><p>Right outside, across the street from the shop, a familiar figure stood in front of a closed bakery. John must've been seeing things when that figure caught his eye, looking almost exactly like Paul. What if the figure is Paul? Paul had trimmed hair the last time John seen him, and now - whoever that is had long raven colored hair down to his shoulders, covering his face, minimal facial hair, from this far John could still see one of the piercing hazel eyes. If he were sure that it's Paul, he'd tap George's shoulder and tell the younger to turn around to look, but instead John blinked back into consciousness to look at a concerned Harrison.</p><p>"Are you okay? I thought I lost you there."</p><p>John shuddered, feeling eyes on him that weren't George's. That's fucking <em>weird</em>. "I'm okay, I just got caught up in my thoughts there for a couple of seconds." John answered, seeing George nod his head in understanding before an idea popped up into John's head which made his face light up. "Okay, how about we exchange numbers? So if any of us spot Paul, we can just call each other and tell!" He sounds like a Caillou character, but hey what the hell, an idea is an idea and it may work if they're consistent with it.</p><p>George couldn’t help but to smile a bit, John’s enthusiasm seeping into his heart.</p><p>Hopefully they can become friends in the future, if George can get his priorities with Paul straight however.</p><p>-</p><p>A random hand darted out of one of the more darker alleyways in Liverpool. The hand grabbed roughly at John's arm, and before the unknowing man could know it, he's suddenly slammed against the side of the building wall, breath knocked out of his lungs. Immediately regretting staying out past curfew due to a careless taxi that never fucking came, John's breath hitched and his eyes squeezed close in dread of what was to come.</p><p>Another patient hand patted at his cheek, withdrawing a squeak of unknowing fear from through his lips before he blinked his eyes opened to see an overwhelming sight.</p><p>Paul.</p><p>Said Paul breathed in, eyes flickering all over John’s features when he  unhooked John's mask off of his face, throwing it elsewhere, skimming his eyes along John's face for a couple of seconds before backing up from him.</p><p>John breathed in, staring at Paul with wide eyes. <em>You're fucking kidding. </em>John looked into Paul's eyes, the silence thickening, for some reason he wanted to run his hands through Paul's <em>long</em> hair before scratching off all of the other things he wants to do to him. However, he's too bundled up in a head full of thoughts along with 'what if's' to even try and make a move, holy fucking shit. Paul sunk his hands into his sweatshirt pockets, eyes tedious and reading which made John shiver against the hard platform.</p><p>Soon enough, Paul broke the silence with a subdued expression on his face, including the most nonchalant, lowered voice. "Wassup?"</p><p>John didn't know what came over him, but it had been a blind rage above anything else, despite wanting to gently course his fingers through Paul's hair a few seconds ago. Swinging one of his fist at Paul failingly with a loud cry out, not even balancing himself, he stumbled into a pitiful front bodied fall onto the ground as Paul effortlessly swayed back when he seen John's fist coming at him. Paul stared over at him wordlessly, expression unreadable as he watched John gather himself up to his feet, mad as fuck and wanting to express his <em>anger/hurt</em> along with other feelings but that asshole literally just -</p><p>What in actual fuck gives Paul the right  to pop up out of nowhere for the first time in months, and give him the damn <em>audacity</em> to slam him against an alley wall, then say: 'Wassup' Is he out of his goddamn mind? John staggers forward when he tries to hit Paul again, God he must look like a whole drunk person.</p><p>Paul sways gorgeously, dodging each attack with his hands still in his pocket, right up until he pins a thrashing John back to the alley wall with one hand. "Why are you trying to hit me?" Paul asks with a tilted head, sounding tiresome as John tried his best to get out of the naturally strong hold that the younger has on him.</p><p>John clenched his teeth, withering and growing a bit teary. Paul noticed the rising moisture in John's putrid glare, his grey eyes flickering up into John's for a split second. "Because you - you're such a fucking asshole. I can't believe you did that to me and what you said to me the last time you were here! Are you serious? I've been through so much the past few months, and you come back here asking me what's up? God I've - I - get your hands off of me!" John shouted, stammering over his words as Paul stared at him with a slightly baffled look on his face.</p><p>For some reason, that made John even more hysterical, actually <em>grazing</em> Paul's cheek this time when he swung his fist.</p><p>"Stop hollering before you attract someone."</p><p>John's crying now. Paul looked away for a second, then gazed back at John, using his other hand to wipe at the tears streaking his cheek. "Don't touch me Paul." John weakly demanded, a little too late, but he couldn't seem to gain the strength to actually start yelling at Paul again when the younger man stared longingly at him.</p><p>Paul made a defeated sound, removing both of his hands from John's body and just letting it slide back into his pocket whilst he took another step back, watching sourly as John continued to cry. "You can't just come out of nowhere after breaking my heart and then slam me against this fucking - whatever it is. If I had the chance I'd be the one to slam you to the ground to give you a taste how that feels."</p><p>Paul's eyes are shining, his raven hair falling into his face as he lowers his head in shame. "I'm really sorry." Something in that apology seems explicitly raw, meaning more than just an apology for what he's already put the older man through. "I didn't want it to be that way. I didn't <em>mean</em> for it to be that way actually." He said in a measured voice, staring intently at a faraway beetle down by his shoe crawling expectantly upon a pebble. "I'm sorry, for everything then and for everything in the future. You don't deserve to be in pain because of my doings and my words, I'm just being selfish from this point on."</p><p>John furrowed his eyebrows, confused a little. "What do you mean in the future?"</p><p>Paul didn't answer the question immediately, still staring attentively at the beetle. John knew this routine, he asks something, and Paul just fucking shuts down on him like it's a goddamn garage. Paul ends up becoming this unrecognizable asshole that sends shivers down John's spine whenever locks eyes with him, Jesus it's just so obvious.</p><p>John flinches when Paul's foot slams down on the bug, crushing the beetle ruthlessly against the sole of his shoe as he takes a step towards John, the despondent looney look in his eyes still the same. "If I so happen to hurt you again, in the future, then I deeply apologize in advance. It's not what I want to happen."</p><p>John huffed, shivering at the hollow in Paul's voice along with his serious demeanor. Still, he couldn't seem to shake off the growing affection for the man, now that he's back in his presence, but then there's just this spell of fear that runs its course. Paul had hurt him with his words, gaslighting him in a way, just overall crushing his feelings and it's frustrating how it all comes swarming back to him like this. John shakes, rubbing furiously at his eyes as he spits out. "Where have you been? Just give me an explanation on why you left? Why haven't you told anybody where you were?"</p><p>Three questions that didn't seem to visibly move Paul, instead they only made John more mad since those have been the questions ricocheting through his head for two months. </p><p>"It's complicated to fully tell you why I left in public." Paul said under his breath, looking too fucking calm for John to handle. "But I've been back in Liverpool for a week."</p><p>John blinked, his tears making his eyes sparkly. "Are you serious? So you've just been ignoring everyone for a week? Me and George?" Fuck the professor, this is the most angriest John has ever been in a long time. Different emotions racing vigorously inside of him every time he looks at Paul, hears his voice, and everything in between. John wants to try and hit him again, but he also doesn't want to embarass himself by falling over again, plus he'd regret hurting Paul later on. Because he loves him, he just loves him enough to still hesitate injuring him despite being genuinely enraged. </p><p>Paul said nothing, his face straight. </p><p>John suddenly shoves him to the ground, less brusing than a punch, but more strength mustered up to have Paul crashing hard into the ground with a shocked sound leaving his lips. The hard thud resounded across the alleyway, along with Paul's soft grunt as he rubbed his wrists, switching hands back and forth since he last minutely tried to break his fall with his hands. John blinks, just now realizing what he's done since the adernaline ran rapid throughout his body when he seen Paul sit up slowly.</p><p>Should he apologize?</p><p>No, it's what Paul deserves for pushing him against the wall like that, and it's what he deserves for everything leading up to this point. At the same time, John is very emotionally malleable and harshly shoving someone he loves to the ground made him crumble on the inside, his lips quivering as he took baby steps towards a fallen Paul. </p><p>"Sorry, I'm so sorry. I just - I snapped and I pushed you." Fuck, he couldn't help it. Paul looked up from the ground towards John with an unreadable look in his eyes. John's breath caught in his throat, his hand stretching out for Paul to grab at. It's not like Paul hasn't been in this situation before, being shoved to the ground, usually he gets up on his own and tries to bash that person's head in until their skull imploded.</p><p>John has a perfect reasoning for that though, and Paul knows it.</p><p>Paul took the older's hand, letting John pull him upwards. John felt so bad, keeping his hand wrapped around Paul's stinging wrist in worry that he sprained it, he hates how Paul just brought out a side to him that made him a little violent. "It's okay John," Paul says, watching John caress his wrist until the older eventually broke away from him. Paul's eyes followed John's movements as he went back to sinking his hands into his pockets. "I deserved that one."</p><p>John felt like he was going mad, beginning to ramble out different sentences that settled into his head. "I can't grasp it. I can't grasp why you're back here, why you are talking to me. Do you want something from me? I don't understand it. I just -"</p><p>"Because, I realized that I'm in love you." Paul said, his once again too casual for something as heavy as that. John went rigid, his eyes widening, a gasp leaving him when he looked at Paul, trying to read his motives. This is the second wave of confusion/anger/affection that possessed John all in one day. </p><p>To him he genuinely thought this was some kind of sick joke. "What?" John croaked out, disbelief flooding through him. </p><p>"I said, I realized that I'm in love with you. I love you. It was one of the reasons why -" Paul was cut off when John backhanded the shit out of him, hard enough to make him stumble back a little bit, immediately clutching onto his cheek. Yeah, he might've deserved that one too. </p><p>John's hand stung, as well as his eyes. "I'm not sorry about that one." </p><p>••</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Are you cold?"</p><p>John crossed his arms as he sat down on the bus nearby the window, looking elsewhere with a cute scowl on his face. Paul stared at him expectantly, one arm above him, holding onto the bar above him to keep still as the bus rumbled against the road and the other sunken into his pocket. John stayed silent, ignoring Paul's question as he glared out of the window into the night, subtly shivering due to the partly opened window next to the seat behind them. Paul tongued at the inside of his cheek, tilting his head. "You can borrow my coat."</p><p>"Stop talking to me already!" John suddenly erupted, scaring two children who sat aside their tired mother. Paul's lips were parted, a knit in his brow as he darted his eyes all over John's upset expression, seemingly lost as to why he's being yelled at by someone he cares for the most. John mentally kicked himself for feeling remorse from his outburst, trying his best to tell himself that it's okay to be angry at Paul, it's absolutely fine. Right now they were headed towards the younger's flat, and it flew over John's head that this would be the first time Paul would have took him to his home. John scoffed inwardly at that, blood boiling at the domesticity of that apart from the constant 'it's not love' attitude Paul had before.</p><p>John bit his lip, <em>seething</em>. How are you going to tell somebody something so hurtful, and then take it back after leaving them alone in dispair for two whole months? John just shook his head at the disgusting thought, gnawing violently on his bottom lip as he shook his head in disproval. His emotions being played with didn't sit with him very well. John looked over at Paul for the first time ever since they boarded the bus, seeing that the younger man had been looking ashamedly down at the bus floor for the past minute.</p><p>Fucking good, he should be ashamed.</p><p>"It's not even the start of it John." Paul suddenly said, somehow feeling John's eyes on him. John frowned, ready to ask him what he meant until Paul ran his hand through his long hair, revealing most of his face now. Ignoring the perfect eyebrows, and long eyelashes, John stared at the lifelessness in Paul's eyes compared to when he first met him. It was as if - Paul is in the same mood he was in when he basically ripped John's heart out of his chest - if that makes any sense to John. Paul looked down at John, penumbra casted over his expression. "I don't have a problem with you being mad at me though. I deserve everything that's coming for treating you that way, and so on. But just stick around with me, will you?"</p><p>John's face softened, but he refused to let his guard down. "Why should I? You said what you said back there, and I'm not going to forget it either. I don't think - I don't think I'll be able to forgive you for that too." He said, trying his best not to stammer over his words. Paul looked to his side, no longer staring at the floor or John, his expression unmoved if you don't count the sudden shine of regret in his eyes.</p><p>"I'm not asking you to, so don't worry." Paul replied, still looking at a particular someone sitting two seats in front of them. Two kids actually, he stole a glance from one of their eyes before they quickly ducked into their seats and a surge of a distant memory rushed through him which made him grow a little quiet, the sounds of the bus driving on the road being the only thing heard for a couple of tense seconds. John looked down at his hands, blinking down at his hands innocently once he realized how tight his fingers were crimping the fabric of his pants into fists.</p><p>Paul looked away from the back of the children's heads, a low hum in his throat before he gazed back over towards John, continuing. "But I need you. I <em>love</em> you, and I want you to stay around me so you can <em>at least</em> work yourself into forgiving me."</p><p>John closed his eyes tightly, leveling his breathing, getting worked up again. "God would you just -" He cut himself off, feeling like it wouldn't do much if he kept trying to fight him. Only because John loves him too, it's hard enough that he's being cold towards Paul at the moment, his heart breaking every time he spared a glance at Paul's disconsolated appearance. John has so many questions, and so many words to spew out to him but he needs to set aside his hurt first before he could capture the chance to actually talk to Paul. Fuck, he's always so nice.</p><p>In the meantime, Paul took a step backwards, releasing the bar from his hold and sitting down at the seat across from John. John sniffed, hugging himself as he kept his eyes closed, doing silent breathing exercises to calm himself down the best he could. Paul watched him with observant eyes, blinking slowly as John stopped his hands from shaking as much and lessened the tension in his body. Paul wishes he could do that - calm himself down just by doing breathing exercises. Life would be easier, a dream almost.<br/><br/><br/></p><p>
  <span class="u">February 28th 2021</span>
</p><p>Paul stuck the gun into his mouth without any hesitation, closing his tear drenched eyes tightly as he stifled a sob, tensing up immediately. His life flashed before him for a brief second, finger creeping to the trigger as he hyperventilated, the metalic of the gun bumping against his teeth since his hand was trembling violently. Paul eventually held his breath, pulling the trigger and tensing up with preparation only to be unsatisfied with an empty click that echoed pathetically in his basement. What? There's no bullets in here. Does he have to buy more? Paul dropped the gun to his side, closing his mouth whilst he glared tearfully at the ceiling. <em>Of fucking course there's no bullets in the gun. </em>Paul huffed in frustration, and stood up off of his basement floor to walk over towards the trash bags, sanitizing his weapon before placing it down in the already-full bag.</p><p>Well, that was close.</p><p>Paul threw the bag over his shoulder, clanking sounds resonating in his ears whilst he walked back over towards the stairs leading up towards the basement door. He'd thought that he could kill himself to escape the wrath of guilt that's been prepared to attack him ever since he uttered those words to John yesterday, but obviously it's way deeper than that. Paul thought to himself about his decisions, and why he slotted the gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger just for a graceful empty click to burst his bubble. It's all been a signifcant built up for him, realization of knowing your wrongs after going so long.</p><p>So long on not even letting it sink in. What he's done to people, and what he's done to himself is scrutiny to even realize. Waking up the morning after ditching John's romantic feelings, he laid in bed and ignored phone calls from different people for about several hours. Paul wonders why they try so hard to still be around him even when they're beginning to have suspicions on him, he wonders if they'd ever try to lock him up and throw away the key. Paul couldn't take the idea of George acting like a stranger, not wanting to reveal the fact that he once knew this man as his best friend who'd been murdering countless of people. John, so pure and unknowing, looking at Paul with enough adoration that made the younger man so conflicted on these new emotions.</p><p>Paul has never met <em>anyone</em> like John, and if he has before then they'd be dead by now. John is just the leading thought in Paul's head, driving the man crazy with resurfacing emotions. Paul knows he's in love with John, and it makes him absolutely <em>sick</em> with millions of claws pawing at his face, body, especially his heart. How could he fall in love with someone that he once wanted dead? How could John evoke so many thoughts in his head that he'd never once acknowledge with anyone else? The thought of him attempting (sometimes succeeding) to hurt John, emotionally and physically makes him want to wretch with violent regret. John doesn't deserve that, so why does Paul put him through it anyways?</p><p>Paul threw the trashbag into his trunk next to his suitcase, stared at both of them with curious eyes and then closed the door afterwards. As he throttled with his keys in his other hand, Paul inhaled shaprly through his nose before turning the other way, heading towards the drivers side. As he moved, there'd been a high point where he began to talk under his breath in sync with the flurry of thoughts debuting in his head. Getting some professional mental help with his 'killing problem' will not work for him, Paul already threw that out of the table. They'd ask him questions, check his record, and all-out grow suspicious towards him when Paul ends up blurting signifcant pieces that ties him in with all of the expectations.</p><p>Expectations, to be a serial killer - yes that exists in Liverpool.</p><p>Paul thinks heavily as he gets into his car, ready to drive it off of a bridge, or maybe take a long ride out. Shoving the key in, he elicits a sigh and turns it to start the car. Vibrations rumbled underneath his feet, his body having delightful tremors short through him. Paul likes driving alone in the depths of his thoughts sometimes, depending on what he's even thinking about in the first place. The trips could take hours, to a couple of days - this time around Paul wants to take a longterm one that lasts about a month or two.</p><p>Is there ways of picking a serial killer out of a basket full of clones? Is there ways of picking out current Paul out of a basket of clones? Does Paul have the traits of a serial killer, and if so, then what are they? A tumultous childhood with two loving parents, but evil kids that love to toss him around as if he were a doll, becoming ill at the tender age of three and being blessed by a priest, rebelling for the first time against Brady. Paul just grabbing the nearest scissors, stabbing the child with a rage he couldn't remember to fathom, but Paul questioned if he really was angry. There'd be school assemblies on bullying, ways to handle it without being troublesome yourself.</p><p>Paul always thought that it was bullshit. Just fucking bullshit, why should the victim always come out to be the bigger person in those situations? Do people expect for the majority to just grow up without that trauma in their lives? Why does the victim have to be the <em>only</em> one to get help. Why couldn't his father stay by his side throughout that time too? Paul's parents just died alone without truly knowing what his intentions were - <em>before</em>.</p><p>In cases where he's not provoked, there's an issue that's idly agreed upon in his train of thoughts. The issue is coming to terms with just senelessly doing things that makes him question himself, just a bit. Did Paul truly not regret killling those men? Having sleeping nights for a reason connected to 'what have I done?' but just leaving it to him convincing himself that both sides of his pillow are warm. Stabbing that pregnant dog when he was a child? Same thing, sleepless nights hearing the empty sounds of whimpers resonating from the dog and the random kid telling him what happened. Drowning that cat in front of Michael and that weasel kid? A little provoked, but did Paul even care enough about Michael to just drown the cat to stake a claim on how no one should fool his little brother?</p><p>These sensations of wanting to kill, kill, <em>kill </em>purges on and fucking on. It's not the first time Paul has fought off these reoccuring feelings, sometimes he just wanted to relax and be kept to himself with George stuck by his side, like old times. Paul understood that there were underlying emotions of a helpless yearning to harm someone that hadn't been awoke until the comic rally incident, but he also understood that he seemed happier when there was no bodies in his concscience. No press conferences of his victims families crying about their loss of a nephew, brother, son and husband. Having no need to deep clean his basement, and wanting to kill himself at the same time.</p><p>Most of all, Paul wishes that he could love John back without hurting him. However, that's impossible if he thinks about it in the soft and gushy way like how he's been doing for awhile now. Paul wants John, and he knows that one day it's going to run deep enough to the point where he'd be forced to tell John everything, but there needs to be measures taken before that though. Paul knows that. If he wants John to be his - then he has to take a couple of steps back to regather himself and prepare for the worse that's possible to come in return.</p><p>John wants this too.</p><p>Paul continues driving, eyes glazed with wetness. "God I'm so sorry for this." He murmurs to himself, voice broken and his hands trembling as he gripped onto the wheel. Paul's halfway considering to crash the car so that he wouldn't have to do this, but the chances of him doing that were incredibly slim. Paul would feel like a fucking coward.<br/><br/><br/></p><p>
  <em>April</em>
</p><p>"Ooh," John softly cooes out without even knowing what he's cooing, looking around the dim household whilst he rubbed tiredly at his eyes. Paul put a sudden hand on his waist, cashing a surprised gasp from John since he hadn't heard the younger walking up to him. Although John still bared a twist in his gut, he couldn't help but to feel his insides flutter as Paul pulled him in towards his own body, hands brushing softly against John's waist and backside. John looked down for a bit, trying to find words that matched his mood on the bus, unknowing to how Paul's eyes acquisitively roamed over his figure. John couldn't seem to to pull the same energy out his ass anymore, feeling incredously tired.</p><p>"I'm really sorry. For dragging you here in the middle of the night, and upsetting you beforehand." Paul mumbles, tilting his head. John cleared his throat, grasping at Paul's hands that were on his waist, a weak attempt to peel them off. At that moment, Paul realized what spot they were standing in - the same spot where he slashed Finn in the space and tussled with him until he could drag Finn to the basement. When the bolt of remembrance struck him, Paul released a soft, wounded sound and pulled John in close, giving the older man an actual hug at that point. John gasped a little, not prepared for the sudden hug.</p><p>Squirming underneath the slightly tight grip, John blushed feverishly with a scowl on his face at the same time, grasping at Paul's arms. "Paul?" His voice hitched lightly, noticing how fucking warm Paul's embrace had been with his arms encased around his waist, it just now occured to John that he missed the younger man a lot. "What's going on with you? Why are you like this?" Smacking lightly at Paul's arm when the younger didn't answer after a couple of seconds, he pulled away from him to get a look into his eyes. "Paul -"</p><p>"I love you."</p><p>John blinked, smacked at Paul's arm again with an annoyed eye roll. "Can you stop saying that? I get it, I guess. You don't have to say it all of the time."</p><p>Paul shied away, his hands releasing John, clasping behind his own back whilst he took a step back. "Right. Sorry, I just want to make up for all of the times I invalidated your love for me by professing it every chance I get. Because it's true, and I mean it." He said, walking past John with his eyes lowered to the floor, feeling the heat of John's uncertain stare riding up his backside. John hummed, crossing his arms over his chest as he followed behind Paul, his eyes still roving around the setting of Paul's domestic home. It smells absolutely lovely, the theme of home being grey and black, but not seeming depressed or anything of that sort.</p><p>Paul led both of them towards his bedroom, quiet and reposed. John continued to look around, warmth flooding him as the perfect temperature in Paul's house welcomed him in. What was botheirng him though is this weird feeling of chills that raced up and down his spine at that the feeling of being inside of Paul's home. Maybe it was just him being shy or excited, mistaking it for minimal discomfort when there was a haunting feeling of someone brushing his hair to the side. John's eyes felt strained by the time he entered Paul's room, blinking to wet and moisture his eyes up to the point where he bumped into Paul without even looking forward. Stumbling back from the sudden bump, John elicited a soft gasp when Paul's arms suddenly shot out to grip at his waist to steady him good.</p><p>"Are you okay?" Paul asked him gently, tilting his head as his eyes darted all over John's face. John wanted to punch him again for making his insides melt, still forcing himself to be inconsolably upset at Paul but he's attempted 'acting' to still be mad at someone before. It never really qualified him to win an academy award or anything else convincing. John stared curiously into Paul's eyes, his heart beating recklessly, cheeks an embarrassing shade of red at the settling intimacy between them.</p><p>"I'm okay. I just didn't look where I was going." John drawled, looking away from Paul and tugging at his own arms, somewhat signaling the other man to release his hold on him. Paul gave him another one over, nodding, and then letting go of the older man with a soft hum before taking a step back again. John looked at him with a not so hidden pout on his face, his brown eyes drinking in Paul's appearance for a little bit and taking in the glimmer of the overgrown hair, well-trimmed beard growing in. God he looks so good. Paul must've noticed John's shameless staring, because his eyes seemed to brighten up just a bit.</p><p>"Do you like it? I cleaned up for you, and I know I look a mess but I was about to cut my hair and shave as soon as I brought you here." Paul said in a low voice, running his fingers down the length of his hair which had stopped to his shoulders. John once again has so many questions, this time he finds himself taking a bold step forward to rest his palm on Paul's cheek - the same cheek he slapped - caressing the skin with a furrow in his eyebrows. Paul tensed up at the touch for a second, the first gentle touch that resonated from John since he's came up to him in that alleyway earlier - fuck.</p><p>"You're such an asshole." John gritted out, beginning to form his caressing into a pinch on Paul's cheek that made the younger wince a bit. John continued to grumble under his breath before softening his voice, shifting onto one leg as Paul stared at him blankly with slightly parted lips. "God I have so much to ask you, but I can't even get anything out now that you're actually here." John says, tracing Paul's cheek just a bit, then he dropped his hands away and crossed his arms again, growing teary for the second time. "How could you do all of this? What happened to you? What's your fucking problem?"</p><p>Paul tongued at the inside of his cheek, focusing his eyes on one thing, and that thing being John's own eyes. "I'm just a terrible person. There's um - I knew that you were right about me being in love with you and it made me angry. So I just said what I said to you because I wanted to hurt you." He explained, a flash of sincerity in his eyes when he adds on, making John's expression soften again. "But I didn't mean it though. I truly -" Paul exhaled. "I'm really sorry for saying that to you, especially since you were at your most vulnerable, and I know finding love is incredibly hard. Being shot down like that diminishes everything you build up."</p><p>John was the quiet one this time, looking down at the floor, still holding himself with his two arms. Paul eyed him, unintentionally glowering, thinking before he blurts out through the haze of his empty conscience. "If you don't want anything to do with me anymore then I'll understand, I can take you back home with my car this time." Paul somewhat begged him to take this chance, especially when he has the upperhand at the moment, something inside of him twisting sickly. Paul felt his throat closeup when John ogled him in disbelief at what he just uttered, shaking his head immediately with a frown on his face.</p><p>"No, I want to work this out with you." John said confidently, glaring into Paul's slightly widened eyes. Within the next part, John's cheeks fanned a bit red as he muttered. "I <em>still</em> love you too you know. I'm just really mad at you, but I never stopped. So maybe we could just work it out." Paul nodded, breaking out of his thoughts before he spirals. John rolls his eyes, leaning up to kiss lightly at Paul's lips, almost shyly. This is what he wanted to do as soon as he met up with Paul again, but of course the shock and the anger had to sink in first before he could get a little soft. Paul blinked in surprise after a couple of seconds, staring blankly at John when the older pulled away with a soft look on his face. </p><p>Paul cleared his throat after a couple of silent, partially stunned seconds, growing flustered. "Well okay, anything you want. Are you hungry? I can order something." He said fastly, as if he was going to be interrupted if he did not finish his sentence quick enough. John looked down as he placed his hand on his stomach, noting that he didn't eat dinner due to not being able to stomach anything down earlier. A result of him being worrisome over Paul whereabouts.</p><p>"Ah, I think I'll be fine for now. I really just want to lay down for a couple of minutes. My head is literally spinning with so many questions, and it's making me really dizzy." </p><p>"Do as you will." Paul said, hand placed on John's lower back as he guided John towards the bed.</p><p>--</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Am I the only one who saw that?" Lily breathily asked, her voice trembling, the sounds of the bus hissing around her and her brother causing shivers to run throughout their bodies. Peter only scrunched his nose, squeezing her hand, both of them trotting down the two steps and heading onto the desolated sidewalk that led up to the blocks of their home. Lily walked beside him, breathing heavily as their footsteps echoed in the night as they walked together with stunned faces. "Peter that guy, on the bus, he looks so familiar." Lily uttered out again when Peter hadn't responded to her question, breathless and genuinely flummoxed.</p><p>"You're just tired. It can't be that convienient." Peter said, staring at the ground in his own haze of shock, wanting to deny the fact that Lily might be right for his own sake. One thing he's really worried about is their mother exploding at them for arriving home so late. Lily suggested - begged - Peter for them to  leave off to Liverpool, however she hadn't been the one to ask the mother for permission for them to leave the house.</p><p>Lily twisted her hand away, wrenching her arm back and crossing them over her chest. "I am <em>not</em> tired Peter. I looked at his eyes, he looked over at us, didn't you see that? His appearance changed but, that's him. I swear it's him, he probably killed our dad, and - God I'm so sure. We should go back, do something! We can't just let him -"</p><p>"Lily, you have to use your brain!" Peter snapped, whirling around to face his sister, looking ghostly. Peter definitely believed her, but their execution needs to work out before they can catch another bus and take a long ride back to Liverpool. "We can't just go back there tonight! Do you think we can just waltz up in the police station and say 'oh me and my brother took a bus, and we seen the guy who killed our father a few years ago' we <em>can't</em> do that." He explained, running a hand down his face as Lily's bottom lip began to quiver.</p><p>"Then what are we going to do?" Lily asked, her voice small and helpless. All she wants is justice for her dad for that gruesome night. Lily remembered it being like any other night, the image of his smile, him giving her a kiss on the forehead as he tucked her into bed and telling her that he loves her before doing the same with Peter in his room.</p><p>Then this monster just comes in through her window, too enveloped in the spurr of wanting to cut somebody's life short, so selfishly and then turning around to tell her - <em>don't look at his body. Oh you're too young to see that. </em>God Lily<em>'s </em>throat burned with the feeling of wanting to seek murderous vengeance for her father's death, and then she just wanted to get the man locked up somewhere at the same time. If Lily had the chance to go back into that bus, capture that man's eye, all things considered - she'd probably launch herself off of her seat and run over towards the man with a viscous intent. Peter wouldn't let her though, of course, his hand was already clutched around her wrist when the two of them looked behind them to see two men talking.</p><p>Peter noticed their father's suspected murderer having some type of conference with a possible friend of his. The man who'd been sitting by the window seat seemed upset at the suspected murderer. Right then he briefly wandered if they were siblings of their own until he seen the way the auburn haired man stared at the suspected murderer. It confused him, but he wasn't really worried about how the two of them were connected to each other. Peter was more so worried about Lily blowing a fuse, what with the way she gritted her teeth together as she glared at the suspected murderer.</p><p>Then the suspected murderer glanced at them with a waning look in his hazel eyes, knocking a bolt of cold white fear into Peter and Lily enough for them to twist around in their seats. Lily clapped her hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes closed and emitting a soft whimper while Peter tried to keep himself from hyperventilating. All in all, both of them were sent backwards from just a mere look their way from the suspected murderer and that's a lead for right now until anything else is done.</p><p>Peter swallowed, mind puzzling his thoughts back together. "We need to tell mom first and foremost." He said, hearing the way Lily's breath hitched in surprise. "I know that it's kind of a reach, and it most likely would get shunned away, especially now. However, if we have an actual adult with us then maybe our case could come off more believable."</p><p>"Mom never likes talking about pa though." Lily said, rubbing her teary eyes with the back of her clammy hand. "And she doesn't like it when I bring him up because - she gets all freakishly upset and I understand but I don't think she's going to let us, you said it before."</p><p>Peter inhaled sharply, taking a step forward and grasping at his sister's hand again. "I know I said that, but - you said before that as long as he's still out here. The lack of murders don't matter. Now that I've seen him up close, maybe we can do something, but not in the way you think we should. We have to go and tell an adult." He said, tugging her forward so that they can continue their walk home. "But right now, we have to think about getting home safe and explaining to mom where we've went if she noticed that we left."</p><p>Lily blinked, staring at her brother for a little, and then sinking her head down in thought. Once again the two walked side by side, hand in hand. Peter was significantly quiet, ears zeroed in on different sounds nearby that he would deem suspicious since they were walking in the middle of the night. Lily clutched onto him, suddenly tired due to her not having much to eat today. "Can I hop on your back? I don't feel so good." She suddenly says, looking up at her brother who only shook his head in response, feeling a bit weak himself.</p><p>"No, we're almost home. Let's just.. keep.." Peter trailed off, his eyes ahead, colors of blue and red flashing his face. Lily gasped aloud, looking forward, seeing several police cars parked right by their house and their sobbing mother rambling right by a detective. "Oh shit, come on!" Peter cursed, immediately launching into full sprint with Lily running alongside of him. Shit, she found out that they were gone, it's obvious enough. He didn't know that she'd go and call the police though, their mother isn't exactly the type to be openly dramatic like this since she was mostly well composed and quick mouthed. That's what usually led to arguments between their parents.</p><p>The wind whipped at their faces, lungs shorting out, cries exceeding their voice capacities as they continued to run. Lily gained the lead after a short second, pushing past the police officers scouting around the area with her brother. "Mom! Mom! We're here!" She shouted, waving her hand in the air, drawing some attention towards the two kids as Peter caught up to her, breathless with searching eyes. The sounds of their hollering had been drowned out due to the chatting of different officers along with several neighbors, it made Peter realize how dangerous it was to just sneak out like that without alerting their mother.</p><p>Well, she obviously blew up, got the police involved and everything. Peter grasped at Lily's arm, tugging them through the officers, ignoring the questioning calls as they passed through the crowded area. "Mommy!" Lily continued to call out, Peter's voice booming louder than her own since their mother seemed to freeze up in mid sentence of whatever she was saying to the detective. Their mother looked over their way, her eyes widening and a wave of relief washing over her as the police seemed to make a gap to reveal her two children. Lily continued to wave her hand, so did Peter who jumped up and down to make sure that the two of them were spotted.</p><p>"Oh my God!" Their mother gasped, rushing over towards her kids, tears streaking down her cheeks as the detective followed behind her. Lily and Peter were both swallowed up in a warm embrace, both of them immediately falling in tune, the detective tilted his head and smiled a bit at the sight. Their mother pulled away after a couple of seconds, still worrisome as she patted her hands along her children's bodies to make sure they weren't injured. "Where did you two run off to? Have you two lost your mind? What's gotten into both of you?"</p><p>Lily and Peter exchanged looks, nodding their heads after a couple of seconds of staring at each other. Peter had then looked back at his mom. "We were trying to find someone in Liverpool. A man that killed our father. Lily and I have been struggling to sleep over this mom." As soon as those words rolled off his tongue, the police officers surrounding them went silent, their eyes widening and their minds delaying any random thoughts.</p><p>The detective cut in before their mother could even think up an actual response, whipping out a notepad and a pen. "Detective Brian here, what was that you said? A man? You were trying to find a man who killed your father?"</p><p>Lily nodded, her voice steady as she spoke this time. "Yes. I've been having dreams about him. We were too scared to go and tell our mom about it because she might've said no to us going to Liverpool, so we sneaked out." She looked at her mother, eyes glistening with sadness, but nothing correlated to regret. "I'm really sorry for making you worry mom but I don't think that I'll be able to sleep with that man still walking around here."</p><p>"Ah she's right Nora." Brian drawled out nonchalantly, reffering to their silently stunned mother, who only stood still with widened eyes, glazed over with astonishment alongside with a rising emotion. "If your children think they know who the man is then it'd be a big help if they could -"</p><p>"<em>No</em>."</p><p>Lily and Peter stifled a gasp, their faces paling. Brian's expression slightly tensed, but he had a clue that she wouldn't be entirely willing to giving up her children in such a gruesome investigation. However, someone, even a kid having knowledge of what the killer's face and appearance could be is what could bring the nail and hammer towards the still-opened coffin. Nora made a strangled sound with an unreadable face, her stomach becoming nauseated as she stood up straight with both Lily and Peter's hands in her grip. "I want you to forget about getting into that serial killer mess, now that I have you two back, you are grounded and you will not mention this again."</p><p>"But mom! We can help so many people if we work with detective Brian! Lily wouldn't be sick anymore! The families of the victims wouldn't have to be sad!" Peter exclaimed, struggling to get out of his mother's grip as the two of them were basically dragged into the house. "Mom! Come on! Listen to me!" Their voices droned out the farther they got, and Brian couldn't help himself but to stare with a flash of hope in his eyes as he watched those kids leave off with their mother. So close, Brian felt like he was right on top of everything, all he needed was to get to those children and a way to do that is to convince their mother. Brian hummed to himself, a small smile still on his face as he began to shimmy a little bit from the surge of righteousness</p><p>"Detective Epstein, do you want us to go and retrieve her? We haven't had the chance to ask her any questions." Said a rookie police officer, walking up to Brian with a innocent tone to her voice as she tilted her head. Brian kept staring at the three of them as they entered their home, the sounds of the children pleading still in his field of hearing.</p><p>"No, no, it's late anyway. They need their sleep." Brian said, turning to the officer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Besides, I'll get back in contact with them soon. Come, let's go and head back into headquarters."<br/><br/><br/></p><p>John blinks his eyes opened slowly, a curtain of his own hair blinding him at first. A soft yawn escapes his mouth, and he stretches finely against the soft sheets. God he forgot where the hell he was, he didn't even remember falling asleep actually. John sat up with a soft groan, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he sat cross legged on the bed, he didn't even hear the sound of footsteps approaching the room. Paul felt at his shaven cheek with a wandering hand, towel still draped around his neck and his hair still damp from taking a shower as he walks into his bedroom shirtless. Right now his eyes were on his phone, not even noticing John being awake. The other man blinked, his eyes falling onto Paul's appearance, a blush curdling onto his cheeks.</p><p>Oh now he remembers how he's got here. Also, why is Paul so fucking hot? Jesus it's only seven in the morning. John squeaked, and dived underneath the thick covers, capturing Paul's attention. John couldn't help himself seeing Paul shirtless like that, looking domesticated, his hair cut and his face bare, so naturally sexy - it kills him whenever he's not prepared for that. Paul looks on with curious eyes, a bit taken back from the sudden noise and then sight of a lump underneath his covers, right then it clicked that John's still in his bed. "Oh, um good morning." Paul said softly, running his hand through his hair as he began to approach the bed, his footsteps making the lump squirm just a little bit.</p><p>John peeked his face up from underneath the covers, his eyebrows raised and his lips parted. "Morni- wait a minute, why are you shirtless? And where have you been? I don't even remember going to sleep." John rambled, trying to distract himself from the strings of water dripping down Paul's neck and collarbone to his chest. It's as if his legs were just automatically spreading even though that's not what he wanted, Paul looking well cleaned up this morning made him on the brink of going feral. This asshole. This goddamn asshole, Paul has the audacity to just look this good so early in the morning with John still being so mixed up in his own emotions.</p><p>"I took a shower." Paul said casually, and John grumbled at him, cheeks embarrassingly red. Paul bit down at his bottom lip, eyes skimming over John's features, a sudden twist in his stomach from how soft and sleepy John looked in <em>his</em> bed. Lord help him. Paul sighs and manages to make out a gentle: "Do you want to come with me to the library today? I'm going to see George, it's been awhile."</p><p>"No shit. You abandoned him too you know. Are you going to throw him against a bookshelf and then say 'wassup' to him too?" John asked, not even meaning to sound so harsh but the query came out anyway without his control. Paul looked slightly hurt from that, but there's no reminiscent of rage in his expression from the snappy remark, only thorough self disappointment. John immediately apologized, reaching out without even noticing and grasping at Paul's forearm to pull him onto the bed. "God I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I just saw the opportunity to say it and I took it." He rambled on unconsciously, feeling absolutely sick at the dejected look on Paul's face.</p><p>"You're fine." Paul replied solemnly, meaning it. Still though, he let John pull him onto the bed with a sorry look in the auburn haired man's eyes. </p><p>"No I'm not."</p><p>"I deserve it. You're fine, trust me. He's probably going to say the same thing."</p><p>George gasped aloud, his eyes widening and brimming with hot tears of relief as he dropped the stack of books onto a stunned Richard's foot. The blue eyed man immediately cried out, holding his injured foot as George went racing over towards Paul to throw his arms around his neck and literally jump into the older's arms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, oh my God. I didn't mean to upset you, I just - I'm so sorry, please don't ever leave again. This is my fault. I know, I love you so much, please don't leave." George poured out, sniffling lightly as he held into Paul, not even noticing the way John and Richard stared at the two of them with widened eyes. </p><p>Paul was taken back, his arms protectively wrapped around George to keep him from sinking to the ground as the two of them held each other. George was apologizing?</p><p>Wow. The total opposite of what Paul expected.</p><p>John felt weird, he didn't know how to explain it. The way George was over here apologizing and hugging Paul tightly, it made him feel incredibly weird. Not jealous, but just weird all around that he didn't have those type of emotions when he seen Paul again, it made him think that he was an asshole for being a dick to Paul when he came back. Then again, Paul and George must have fallen out in a different way so there's not really a self loathing period he should experience. John smiled unknowingly, watching the pair of best friends with fond eyes when his thoughts became vacuumed after a couple of seconds.</p><p>Richard felt disillusioned, shocked, scared, a bit fucking mad. Or really fucking mad, who knows, he couldn't even decipher how he's feeling at the moment but his face was red and so was his vision. "George! Come on, pick these books up." He snapped harshly, making Harrison jump back a little from the unrecognizable, roughen tone of his voice which had been unmistakably directed towards him. At the sight of George's widened eyes, Paul's subdued stare and John's confused ogling, Richard crumbled, cleared his throat and talked in a quiet voice. "You almost broke my foot just now. I didn't mean for you to be yelled at, I'm sorry, don't take it personally."</p><p>There was an awkward silence. Paul eventually tapped at George's side, making the younger avert his attention back on him. "When is your break? I want to take us all to eat somewhere." Paul stated in an unmoved voice, making sure he looked at Richard this time with a flash of sick friendliness in his eyes. "All four of us actually."</p><p>Richard swallowed. <em>Shit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, looks like we don't have to go searching together. Still though, do you want to be friends? I think you're pretty cool, and you're so adorable." George said, his mask off since they were eating which gave him a chance to present his blossoming smile that glistened as he talked with John. Richard sat next to him, both of his hands on the table as he stared down lifelessly at his food, not even mustering up enough strength to try and search his eyes around the table. Paul was chewing slowly on a piece of waffle, eyeing both John and George quizzically as the two of them giggled with each other. </p><p>John's cheeks were shaded lightly pink, his eyes glistening after being completely flattered. "Thank you. I'd like to be your friend too. Seriously, I would love it." He said gently, glancing over at Paul with a look of subtle excitement to see what Paul would think of him becoming friends with George. To Paul, it made things a little bit harder but when was his life <em>not</em> hard? So what if George and John become friends? At least it gives him an alibi of some sort. Paul meets John's eyes, seeing the purity for the first time in awhile without the spell of hurt being poured onto John's features whenever he usually stares at Paul. It makes the younger's heart clench. </p><p>Richard inhales, sharp and wounded. "So I guess we're all friends now huh? What does that make of us?" He asks with his scared blue eyes still planted on the food, hands moistening the table with sweat brewing in his palms. The question was mostly to himself, kind of inaccurate since he would never look to Paul as a friend. That idea disgusts him. On the last syllable George looked at Richard immediately recognizing the slightly sarcastic remark, he analyzes the man's unsettling demeanor and begins to frown, looking over towards Paul who just kept eating his food. </p><p>John gasped out and clasped his hands together, looking as if he had an idea, but then he faltered shyly. "I kind of forgot what I was going to say. I think it involved one of my friends too, Cynthia and Stuart." He said, capturing everyone's attention. "I'd like us to be like one big friend group but I'm pretty sure that they hate Paul now." George furrowed his eyebrows at that, and Richard made a single questioning noise. Paul just stuck to eating silently, leg jumping anxiously underneath the table despite his gathered composure. "Wouldn't you like to explain why, Paul?" John asked the younger, nudging him with a confronting expression. </p><p>Paul takes a single sip of his orange juice, sitting up straight. "I said something very bad to John before I left, me and George hung up on bad terms too. I left without really saying anything to anyone, and I still haven't gotten the chance to do so, but I was planning on doing it tonight." </p><p>"Why do you always treat him like shit?" Richard spat out before he could even help himself. John's eyes widened and George elicited a gasp from the sudden question, Paul only stared down at the table with an unreadable look in his eyes. Once Richard got started, there was no stopping him, suddenly confident enough to just put McCartney on the spot and start beating him to a pulp with his own words. "Seriously, George is the sweetest person I've ever met and he always comes to me near tears talking about something <em>you</em> did to him. Now that I'm around him more you try to direct that onto John, isn't that right? You're supposed to be George's best friend and apologize to him for what you've been doing, he <em>shouldn't</em> be apologizing to you."  </p><p>John retraced his gaze elsewhere, cheeks burning in subtle embarrassment from Richard's outburst. Christ, if he knew this was going to be the outcome then he would not have brung his friends up at all and left the conversation light. George smacked lightly at Richard's arm, "I get why you're mad but don't talk to him like that Ringo." </p><p>Paul bit at the inside of his cheek, leg jumping more, the anxiety beginning to actually settle in. Taking in a deep breath, he began to speak. "That's not what I wanted, honestly. I wish I could have the chance to really explain myself, but there's not really an excuse for what I've done." As Paul spoke, Richard trembled in his seat, those words seemed so unsettling to him. Once again his eyes were looking at Paul's hands, just imagining what those hands could have done to innocent people. </p><p><em>There's not an excuse for what I've done</em>. Fucking hell. What does that even mean? The heaviness in those words made Richard grow sick, shoving his plate of food away from him and cross his arms over his chest. George cleared his throat, "Paul did apologize Ringo. He called me before he left and apologized for everything, the reason why I apologized is because I asked an ignorant question. It must've thrown him off."</p><p>Shit.</p><p>John looked over at George with furrowed eyebrows, already beginning to formulate the question - much to Paul's horror. "What was the question?" </p><p>"I asked if he was capable of -" </p><p>Paul had to do something, make the words come out of his mouth instead, but less suspecting. Keeping his composure, so goddamn talentedly by placing his utencils down on the table and speaking in a steady but firm voice he interrupted George. "He asked if I was capable of hurting somebody, which I am in a way, back then I definitely was. I used to get into a lot of violent fights when I was a kid and when I became a teenager too, it landed me in a ward one time. That's how bad it was, but I guess I just took it the wrong way." He explained, feeling the way Richard stared blankly at him along with John with those brown curious eyes. George nodded slowly, staring at Paul with a lingering apologetic look in your eyes.</p><p>"Why do you think he asked that? What brung him to that question?" Richard asked, basically reading John's mind. The blue eyed man began narrowing his eyes at Paul, voice deep and observant. Paul felt irritation flare inside of him, but he refused to let it show, instead he licked his lips and kept still so that his body language didn't seem too uncanny. </p><p>"Not so sure, you have to ask him." Paul bluntly replied with a disinterested look on his face, making John's wandering eyes avert back to Richard. </p><p>George talked, his eyes were also now on Richard with a furrowed look. "Because of what you were saying to me about him Ringo. Why are you acting brand new all of a sudden?" He queried, unintentionally backing the oldest into a corner along with Paul. John played with his sleeves, unsure on whether or not he should say something since the discussion became what it was because of him. </p><p>"George, you obviously had to think about what I've been saying on <em>your own</em> to make a decision to ask him that question. I didn't directly tell you to do it, it was your decision so don't go turning all of this on me." Richard said, defending himself. George was stuck in the mud at that point, words driven out of his head, leaving him to just sit there while Paul hummed and placed his napkin on his plate. John looked back at Paul, no longer playing with his sleeves, and no longer as hungry as he's once been. </p><p>"Paul? Can we go home? I have to get ready for my next school assignment, and I don't want to hold myself up any longer." John asked, all of a sudden ready to leave since this outing hadn't been exactly sunshine and rainbows. To be honest, he feels like he messed up really badly. Richard huffed, and rubbed at his face before pulling his mask up onto his nose murmuring something like 'I'll pay the bill' underneath his breath. George stared at Richard, conflict brewing, but he wasn't sure enough on whether or not he should act on it. </p><p>"Yes, we can go home. Sorry, I didn't know if you still had school." Paul said, scooting his chair back to stand up, his hand held out for John to grasp at it. Once John stood up, clutching onto his hand, Paul looked over at George with an expectant look in his eyes. "George are you coming with us?" He asked, interlacing his fingers with John in such a sly way the only hint John got out of it was when Paul squeezed his hand gently. John's heart sped up, cheeks flushing, and all of the words shared only a minute ago had suddenly drained out of his head at the feeling of Paul's hands clutching onto his. There was a second where he couldn't hear anything due to a scream that occured inside of his head because of the rush of adrenaline that crept through his body.</p><p>"I'll um - I think I'm going to stay here for a little bit. I'll go on with you later on in the day."</p><p>John blinked at George, wanting to ask if he's okay until Paul gently tugged at his arm. "Come on, let's go." Paul said softly, guiding both of them away from the table, pulling his mask up as John hummed and did the same. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Tap. Tap.</em> "Hey! Are you alive in there? Sir?" </p><p>Paul inhaled sharply, blinking his eyes open slowly, trying to adjust his vision the best he could which seemed a bit hard due to the brightness of the sun relfecting off of the snow. A guy blinked back at him, holding a snow shovel in his hand. Paul fluttered his eyes opened slowly at him when the stranger pulled his mask down, smiling welcomingly at a half awake Paul. He pulled his hand away from the window to wave at him, the snow on the stranger's coat shingling off due to the fast movement. </p><p>Oh, <em>great</em>. </p><p>A stranger is standing beside his car, and Paul is too knocked out to know who the hell the stranger is, not to mention where the hell he is, this is just exactly what he needs. Paul sat back in his seat with a soft grunt, unlocked his door afterwards as he rubbed distractedly at his eyes. The stranger took a step back with curious eyes, watching closely as Paul opened his car door and began to step out of his car, staggering a little bit. </p><p>"What happened?" Paul asked first, not even recognizing his own voice as he began walking over towards the stranger with wobbly legs. The stranger stared at him in surprise, his lips parted, as he noticed the man walk over towards him without wearing a much-needed heavy jacket due to the blizzard-like snow blanketing the isolated street. Once the cold hit him, Paul immediately shivered, eyes widening in shock since he hadn't been outside of his car in a long time. </p><p>"Oh! Um, you -" The stranger gasped out with widened eyes, immediately dropping the snow shovel when Paul tripped over himself and collapsed into his arms, stumbling back a bit from the sudden fall. Paul had no choice but to clamber onto him, hyperventilating, the chilling wave of hypothermia striking him as another crisp wind picked up. "Hey, hey, I got you. It's freezing out here. Do you want me to take you to my home? Your car doesn't look too good, and I have a brother that can fix cars good. My car isn't too far away either, just hang on for me." The stranger told him, moving Paul's body so that the other man was now leant against his backside. Soon enough, Paul felt himself being lifted up onto someone's back through the midst of his unconciousness, shivering violently as his limbs dangled off of the stranger's body helplessly. </p><p>Paul thought he died for a second. </p><p>A surge of flashbacks conduct before he wakes again. The nighttime setting, the snowy blizzard, slippery road having Paul's car swerve completely out of his control, the raven haired man not even reacting until much late when he's already been thrown against his steering wheel. Paul gasps out, panting a bit when his car came to an abrupt halt, not really damaged but the wheels weren't in its best condition. "Fuck." Paul said, sitting back against his seat as he tried to gather himself, his limbs not wanting to work correctly due to the rush of shock that resulted from his car slipping off of the road. Paul exhaled tiredly, moving his trembling hand up to his nose when he felt something dribbling down, must've been the resolution from the cold whipping against his face. Rolling the window up with his other hand, Paul brushed his index finger against his nose and took a glimpse at it.</p><p>Oh, shit.</p><p>It's blood. Paul tensed up, looking around his car to find some type of cloth to tend to his bleeding nose. After grappling at small bunch of napkins, pressing it against his nose, he heaved in a couple of breaths while he rested his back against the seat again. Paul felt so tired, tired of everything right now, and it's as if he couldn't even stop the feeling of - feeling so exhausted. There's a thought that he might've had coronavirus, even if he did, it's as if it doesn't really explain much to him about how he's been feeling lately. Sure enough, he hadn't remembered anything other than leaving Liverpool.  </p><p>To be frank, he began to become disillusioned to what happened before that too. Phone call with George went wrong, conversation with John went terrible, a headache struck him at that exact same time, he packs his bags, heads off. Paul thinks he knows what happened, but the certainty of how much he believes that he knows is faint, surely faint. Paul has no idea what happened, becoming too hung up on the thought of John while driving and - then what? That's all he can limit himself into finding out in a way, trying to sort through it anymore is going to make him lose his fucking mind. </p><p>Right now, days later, now in the car with the stranger - Paul could still somewhat see, his eyes were opened a bit, as he watched the stranger adjust the heat settings whilst his body laid propped up in the passenger seat. </p><p>The stranger glanced at him, worry traced in his eyes, then he looked back towards the front road. Paul thinks that he's being taken to the hospitial until the stranger elicits a strained laugh. "We're almost home. I'll warm you up soon." There's a promise in his voice that makes Paul stare observantly at him. The cold man wanders how old the stranger is, he looks like he'd be in his mid thirties but the youthfulness in his eyes gives away something else. Paul blinks slowly at him, his eyelids becoming completely heavy again despite the numerous questions flooding like an opened dam into his head. The coldness seems as if it were getting to his brain, leaving him with no other choice but to close his eyes again. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Paul opens his eyes again, he's in a bed, a small one, but surprisingly he could fit. There's brewing of warmth coating the outisde of his body, but not very much on the inside of his body, well - not at all really. Paul groans, sitting up and rubbing at his forehead, still not truly knowing where the hell he had been. Obviously it was someone's home, hopefully not the stranger's, Jesus that would be so embrassing to him since he never really had the chance to confront the man for tapping on his window. Paul exhaled, running his hands through his dark hair, blinking his tired eyes at the thick set of sheets draped warmly against his pelvis and waist. "What the fuck did I do?" Paul murmured to himself, removing his legs from under the covers to step out of the bed. </p><p>As soon as he put weight on his legs, the covers no longer providing him warmth, he felt incredibly weak. Paul stifled a surprised sound, falling to the floor with a hard thud, the pain resonating throughout his body which made him realize - he's incredibly thin. God what the fuck even happened to him? How long has he been asleep in his car? It's got to be at least March now, none of this makes any sense to him, truthfully. Paul grunts out as he tries to lift himself up, hands flat against the floor as he shakily tries to lift himself up onto his feet again, ears burning dysfunctionally at the sound of hurried footsteps rushing into the bedroom. </p><p>"Woah, hey, hey. You're going to hurt yourself!" The stranger exclaimed, easily hoisting Paul up onto his two feet. Paul being straightforwardly moved around by another man angered him greatfully, feeling all dominance stripped away from him, making his teeth grit in discomfort and overthinking, a small noise escaping him as he was sat down on the bed again. "You're really weak right now kid," Wow, 'kid' that really sent Paul back. "Plus, you need to get warm." The stranger said, pulling the covers up onto Paul's shoulders, watching protectively as the younger sunk into the blankets. "You were out there for around three or four days, I wasn't sure that someone was in the car until I took a look in it and saw your head against the steering wheel. I thought you were dead."</p><p>Paul stared blankly, twitching uncontrollably, he felt cold and hungry. The stranger tilted his head, gradually tracing his fingers against Paul's prominent cheekbones with an observant look on his face. Paul looked incredibly familiar to him, now that he's up close to his face. "If I knew you were in there, then I would have gotten you out sooner. My name is Kahlo, by the way, my friend's just call me Lo." </p><p>Paul rudely moved his face away from the uncomfortably soft touch, grumbling as his eyes narrowed into a slight glare at Kahlo. "Mine is Paul. Where am I? What did you do to me? Why can't I stand up and walk?" He questions, his patience just not being there, as long as he's not in the presence of what he orignally expected to be his surroundings. Paul actually had no clue where his destination could have been, but it was not here, as far as he knew. Kahlo frowns, a bit confused as to how Paul seemed absolutely clueless on why he's here. </p><p>"I took you to my home, we're in Southhampton." Kahlo said, standing up straight, having Paul's eyes follow his movements. "I didn't do anything but keep you warm kid. You haven't eaten or driken any water in days as far as I know, so you're just a bit weak. You'll be fine, I suggest you to keep staying in bed though to keep warming up, I'll bring in something for you to eat." </p><p>Paul says nothing back to that as Kahlo leaves, feeling too tired to. Instead he resorts to falling back onto the bed, feeling all over his body to get a reality check on whether Kahlo was right about him thinning, or if he had to physically regather himself because he's been out of order for a longtime. Humming gently, Paul shivered quietly and pulled the covers closer to him, staring angrily at the wall for the turn of events that boggled him outrageously. Paul forced himself to relax with a frustrated sigh, forced himself to not think too much and just get some rest, but it's been a little hard since thoughts were enveloping his mind almost savagely. Kahlo seems nice, he's just got tied up with Paul during his bad moment. </p><p>Paul tried not to think, tried not to - the feeling hit him. That murderous feeling that bugs him endlessly, unprovoked and untreated for awhile. Paul grew nauseous thinking about it, trying to close the feeling out before it could jump again, just completely take over against his will. Right now, as he stared at the wall, Paul began to taste the flavor of blood pool into his mouth. Okay, he needs to tackle this. Paul needs to tackle this feeling down with firmness, and take control of of it since it will not go away by itself any other way. Things like this makes him question if he really is this dominant force that he tries to be. Not taking any bullshit from the bullies, the people who'd take advantage of him, lashing out with irreversible violence and if he isn't - then how can he take advantage of that conclusion without growing angry? </p><p>Not to mention, murdering countless people. Paul doesn't get pleasure out of it. Satisfaction? Yes, maybe. Full on pleasure that he can stroke his dick and get off on? Fuck no. Paul wonders why he does it then. Why it went from him defending himself to taking people's lives without signifcant remorse - before he met John if not a little bit afterwards if you include Finn. Paul would look at the fact that he's insane, but something completely breaks him on the inside when he tries to figure that suggestion out. </p><p>Paul wants to be the best for John while he can. Give the two of them some type of honeymoon phase and reel him in until the future becomes what it is, hopefully John's not too surprised or angry about it. Paul's heart aches with future regret, his bottom lip becoming gnawed in between his teeth whilst his breath begins to tremble as he breathes in. John is - he's too much for Paul when it comes to thoughts like this. Paul made the decision to not kill John, but making John his after regaining his trust from basically saying what he said to him and then - doing whatever the fuck comes afterwards. John is definitely not dying though. Paul refuses to let him lose his life, especially to him. </p><p>How could he be so sure of that though? </p><p>Paul shivered underneath the covers, his eyes closing again, as he tries to regulate his breathing. Thinking about John's future with him drives him crazy, right up the goddamn wall and it's making him feel ill all over. Paul knew to an extent of how fucked he was when the first afflictions of affection began to crash at him, but Jesus, he hadn't known the actual depths of it all. Every time he finds himself being around John, something takes over him that's mutually wrong and brutal, whether it be murdering him or simply taking him apart. Paul needs to get in control of that, he doesn't know how at the moment, but he will soon enough when it's necessary. </p><p>Kahlo comes into the bedroom and wakes him up around a few hours later, a bowl of freshly made hot soup in his hands as he leans down to grasp at Paul's shoulder, shaking him gently. "Hey, I got your food Paul. Come on, wake up." He says, watching as Paul groans quietly and shifts a bit underneath the sheets, not sure if he should blink his eyes opened to interrupt the good sleep he's having. Kahlo kept shaking him though, voice gentle. "Your food is going to get cold, and I believe that you really need to eat. You're going to feel really sick if you don't eat."</p><p>Paul opens his eyes, slowly lifting himself up, the scent of the soup causing his brain to run a couple of laps and the trigger of hunger to control him. Blinking tiredly, he froze up and peered down at the bowl to see the food coated in its soup juice, the scent of the soup rising into his nose. It did not take long until Kahlo gasped when Paul immediately snatched at the bowl, suddenly flying to the other end of the bed as he stuffed the soup into his mouth hungrily. Kahlo stared with a soft look on his face as the younger man ate, watching him wondrously before breaking out into an unknowing smile, caressing shyly at the back of his neck. "I'll help you into my dining room if you want more, I made it myself by the way. Don't eat too fast because you might choke on it, I know it must have been awhile." Kahlo said, looking down at his lap, staring at his hands while Paul slurped hungrily at the juices of the soup. </p><p>Paul removed the empty bowl from his mouth, veins pumping, and his hands shaking just a bit, his stomach growling for more. "I think I can walk on my own now." Paul replied stubbornly, body saying the opposite as he began to suspend just little weight on his two legs. Kahlo looked up, a bit concerned for the bowl and its holder until Paul did as he said, stood up on his own. Although he was a bit wobbly on his feet, Paul took a few steps forward before eventually gathering his stride, straightening his posture a little bit despite the soreness in his limbs. Kahlo stared at him in slight awe for a bit, surprised at the ambition it took for Paul to literally stand up and walk a couple of feet towards the opened door. It's not all the time when you find someone unconcious inside of their car for about three to four days at most, right smack in the middle of the freezing cold, not really eating or using their legs as much.</p><p>Paul looks at him expectantly, a furrow in his brow. "Aren't you going to show me your kitchen?"</p><p>Kahlo stood up quickly, flustering a bit as he walked over towards Paul while nodding his head slowly.  Gosh, how embarassing. Clearing his throat, the older motioned his head forward. "Come on, let's go, follow me." </p><p>Paul stilled at the orders, not really used to someone telling him what to do. For a moment, he was going to do a U turn and rebel against Kahlo, but he's too tired to do that. Plus, that'd just lead to a wasted opportunity to get more food since he was fucking starving right now, it's time to be a 'nice' house guest for now. When he gets back onto his feet, without falling to the floor or taking baby steps, he could just - </p><p>Kill?</p><p>No, he could just thank Kahlo for everything. </p><p>Kahlo fixed more soup onto the bowl before closing the pot with a lid, stealing glances from Paul as he did so. "You look so familiar." He suddenly says, causing Paul's hazel eyes to immediately look up from the bowl in some type of spell of trepidation washing over his features. Paul couldn't move after awhile, sporadically wondering whether or not Kahlo was some type of police officer or a witness to one of his heinous crimes, it made the oxygen in his brain leseen and for a second, he was going to pass out. Kahlo caught onto the unsettled expression sheltered on Paul's face, his tense shoulders, the twitching hands, the catch of breath in his throat. "I mean, I think I've seen you before but it was years ago. Have you ever went to Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts?"</p><p>Paul somewhat relaxed, not gripping the bowl so tight anymore, his shoulders sunk and his eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah," He muttered, not wanting to talk about that school. That's the last thing he wants to discuss right now, it brings him a rack of memories that'll haunt his days. Kahlo turns to put the pot back on the stove, giving Paul some time to stuff his mouth with food since his back was turned which equaled no more conversation! Kahlo turned to him again with a brightened look in his eye that made Paul tense up again, yeah the conversation seems far from over, all he wants to do is eat and go back to sleep. </p><p>"My cousin went there before we moved. I think he's around your age." Kahlo informed, guiding Paul over towards a small table, the dark blue table cloth being draped onto the floor. Paul stuck his feet and legs underneath it once he sat down by the table, seeking a bit of warmth since he's still a bit chilly now that he's not under the covers, besides he's only wearing his shirt and pants which gives him reason to take a shower afterwards when he's done eating. So much for going back to sleep. Kahlo took a seat across from him, hands folded on top of the table as Paul continued to eat whilst he talked. "I seen his yearbook, and I think there's a picture of you standing right next to him, I'm guessing it was spirit week or something because everyone was wearing their pajamas."</p><p>Paul dabbed at his mouth with one of the napkins lying on the side, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tried to remember whatever the hell Kahlo was talking about. Kahlo flies to an explanation once he captures Paul's confused look, "Yes it was spirit week, it had the students dressing up in different categories for five days straight. I believe everyone was wearing pajamas, and they took pictures of your class that time around." He rambled, before shooting up in his chair eagerly. "I think I still have the yearbook, I'll be back." </p><p>Before Paul could even say anything back to that, Kahlo was off and running. Paul looks down at his bowl, seeing that it's already empty, but he made no signifcant plans to get another since he's damn near full. All he needs is some water and he'll be fine for the next couple of hours. As he sat there and waited, there was an urge to call George just to seek comfort in his friend's voice so that he could convince himself that everything will be okay, then he wants to call John and be the one to tell him that everything will be okay. Paul figures that John desperately needs to hear it, not only because it took him a few hours to realize that John is still buried in his studies and his professor is a prick, but because John seemed a bit off leading up to him leaving. </p><p>It invovles Marline, of course. Paul read up on her just a bit when he got home to 'deep clean' his basement, she killed herself because he killed Arnold. Paul sat there quiet at the table, swirling the spoon around the bowl, listening to the 'ding' sounds when the utencil collided with the inside of the bowl, correlating everything for just a few minutes.</p><p>Paul remembers Cynthia yelling at Stuart, 'I know you don't work there but even you could have called her to see how she's feeling' what could that mean? Working there. It's such a meaningless line if you don't doze on it too long, but since Paul's having his thought train running throughout his brain, he seemed to dig deeper into whatever that line could mean. Work there, work there, work there. Wait. So that means - </p><p>Ah, fuck.</p><p>Paul sat there, aghast, right upon discovering that Marline was Cynthia's and John's coworker at that coffee shop. So that's why John seemed so down in the dumps, although they weren't close, John knew that girl as a coworker in the same place they worked at. John's sensitive, so it really got to him, and Paul's dense enough to not even notice until now. Paul gripped the spoon tightly in his slightly trembling hand, his teeth gritting together as a shiver ran its course down his spine, evoking a nauseous feeling within him, a small release of sweat drawling down his cheek. So Paul had some explaining to do with himself when it comes to that. Oh man, that's not good. How could he even fathom that? John was upset about losing his coworker, and he never really got to explain why, all because Paul up and left him. John probably needed someone to look to at that time, finding that out on the same day and then Paul saying what he said to him - what the hell. </p><p>John telling Paul that he loves him so abrasively whilst his heart was already beginning to tear into pieces after finding out the news of Marline. Then Paul turning around, stomping on his already fragile feelings, it all made him sick. Paul was clenching onto the spoon, tight enough that the inside of his palm began to bruise and his knuckles were almost completely white. What makes it worse is that Paul suffered a fucking breakdown in front of him just the day before, right after fucking against him on the couch, ready to choke him to death.  </p><p>So much for not wanting John to get hurt, the man suffered several slaps in the face that day, including the day before. Several slaps on the face from Paul himself. Paul asked himself if John would have ever told him about how he felt, losing Marline, and all. Jesus. "Hey!" Paul flinched, jumping a bit in his seat as his eyes widened a bit. Kahlo blinked, immediately regretting his crude outburst, forgetting that the man is still a bit on edge. Who knew what Paul went through, he needs to balance his excitement with his morals. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."</p><p>Paul said nothing, averting his eyes to the yearbook since it seemed relatively familiar. Paul had the same one kept in his room years ago, but he went out to burn it in his backyard because he wanted to experiment with fire, George cheered him on for a bit, then the younger ended up panicking because Paul almost teased a squirrel into the fire. If George wasn't there then he'd be sure that he would do it, set the squirrel on fire, watch as it either burned to death or ran around until the injuries became too much to conquer the tolerance of. Paul had bit down on his lip subconciously, squinting at nothing while Kahlo sat down across from him, fluttering the yearbook open as Paul rolled around in his dark thoughts.</p><p>"Ah, see here. Look, this is my cousin, and this is you." Kahlo said, his finger being the pointer, as he tapped on the face of his cousin. Paul looked at the book, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes skimmed the page before he seen himself standing right next to a kid he knew. Oh yeah, that kid, Paul remembers him a little bit. </p><p>"Benji." Paul muttered under his breath, his eyes skimming all over young Benji's face. The kid was wearing braces, a friendly smile on his face, his hair ruffled from playing around. Benji had his arm slung around little Paul's neck, but the raven haired man was looking away before he can capture a glimpse of his appearance. "I vaguely remember him. I think we were friends, I'm not so sure about it." He uttered softly, capturing Kahlo's bright eyes, elated to find out that the man in front of him was in the same class as his cousin.   </p><p>"I think he was a big fan of you. Benji told me that you were always in some sort of dispute with other kids, and the school had to go on lockdown about several times because of you. Said you made going to school fun." Kahlo chuckled, looking back up at Paul after staring fondly at the picture for a couple of seconds. Paul didn't know how to perceive that, feeling a bit unsure of how to react to such a informative declaration. Wow, a fan, that's a way to put it, isn't it? Paul shifted, beginning to roam his eyes over the book again, this time looking at himself when he was a child. </p><p>Hm. "It was not fun." Paul said, his voice dull, slightly trembling. "I'm a terrible person."</p><p>Kahlo studied him, reaching out to place a hand onto Paul's shoulder. "Hey, we've all had criminal minds as a kid. At least you've grown out of it." Paul dropped his head with a strangled sound, teeth clenched and his eyes widened in horrific self realization. Kahlo sighed out, giving his shoulder an encouraging rub as Paul trembled, releasing the spoon from his grip, hearing it drop onto the table as he rubbed at the side of his face. "You were a kid, it's fine, alright? Doesn't mean that you're a terrible person, you just -" Kahlo paused, tilting his head.</p><p>Paul sucked in a shaky breath, his hand now covering his eyes as he cried softly into his palm. "I'm such a terrible person," He repeated under his breath, this time more brokenly, hitches of breaths breaking his syllables up. Kahlo didn't even notice, nor did he have a thought that the sentence could have been an unofficial murder confession. Kahlo just saw a broken man who seems lost. Paul continued to cry, quiet, persistent and all Kahlo could do is coddle him while the young man shook in his seat. </p><p>Something shifted. It was only day 1, and all of everything just shifted. Kahlo hadn't known Paul that much, or long enough to suspect a change in him, but the next morning, Kahlo went up to the bedorom again to check on him. As soon as he opened the door, Kahlo looked at Paul sitting in front of the window, looking fresh out of the shower, borrowing Kahlo's clothes since the man hadn't really gotten the time to retrieve his suitcases from his car. Paul had a blank look on his face, the reflection of the rising sun shone in his dark eyes. The man looked mentally lost, but still there in a way but physically, Kahlo wasn't all the way sure and to be frank he looked concerned. "Paul?"</p><p>Paul shivered, noticing that he's still in the presence of someone. Fuck. "Hey." </p><p>"Are you alright?"</p><p>Paul hummed softly, glancing down at his lap, feeling weird. "I'm fine." </p><p>"Oh, well okay! Breakfast will be ready soon, and I'll have my brother on the phone so that he could fix your car. The snow is thick but I'm sure that we can get it fixed soon."</p><p>Paul still stared down at his lap, not responding. He's such a terrible person, and he knows of it. John will know soon too, it's not like Lennon has a choice anymore. Paul stuck his nail between his teeth, the oral fixation is back, he bites and bites, gnaws, chews until his finger bleeds. John's picture perfect smile flashed through his head, causing his eyes to shut close. God every feature of John coursed in his brain, the imagery of John's animateness, as well as his bright eyes, the way he talks, his annoyingly cute giggles, all of it. Paul felt himself shake against the chair, suddenly cold again. Such an innocent soul, young, brighteyed, hopefully - hopefully Paul doesn't take that away. </p><p>Paul loves him, and he wants the best for John, always does. Paul wants John to live happily, he wants John to have fun with him but - it's not that simple. </p><p>John will understand. Paul hiccups through his heavy breaths, noticing that he's tearing up again. </p><p> </p><p>"Hey! Paul! Why didn't you get out of the car?" Kahlo's brother asked, his name being Felipe, the man rubbed his dirty hands against the cloth after finishing doing Paul's car. "You know you could've froze to death right? I don't understand why you stayed inside of it for like days." He said with an extremely confused expression on his face, Kahlo pushed himself off of the car and looked over at him with an irritated huff. </p><p>"Paul was knocked out, that's why. Are you finished with the car yet? That's a better question."</p><p>"Shut up."</p><p>Paul turned the music up, his rarely used headphones plugged into his ears, blocking out the noise as he leant back against the back of his backseats, sitting casually in his opened trunk. It was late March, and his car had been getting worked on for at least a week, plus he'd been getting fed well by Kahlo's brilliant meals. It didn't take long for him to gain his weight back, face filling out, clothes not so loose around him. Paul physically felt like his old self, but - as an entire person? No, he felt like someone else, an extraterrestrial that's not from here. Paul has never been a consistently happy person, and he might be depressed for all he knows, but for some reason 'depressed' didn't seem to be the specific term of how he's feeling</p><p>He closes his eyes, letting the cool breeze take over. It's been warmer, spring weather beginning to flow in nicely, he can adapt to this. This is fine. Wanting peace is all he ever yearned for, wanting so badly to be perceived as a normal guy, a normal guy whose in love with another normal guy without having to prepare himself to hurt the other normal guy. Paul wished he were normal, the blood not being on his hands, the sounds of his vicitms screams not keeping him up at night. Paul wants to live without knowing the cops are spending tireless hours looking for the killer, looking for him. Paul takes in a breath to relax himself before he gets worked up, he has to get used to knowing that it won't happen. </p><p>Paul eventually shuts his trunk once he climbs out of it, his hands in his pockets, ear phones hanging around his neck. Inhaling the clean air one more time, his hazel eyes glistening as the blue sky bears down on them, Paul then walks up to Kahlo who stands by his car, looking at the scenery, first time it's sunny and blue in ages. Kahlo acknowledges it too. Paul smiles a bit once the older man notices him walking over, Kahlo smiles back. "My brother is inside getting some drinks, your car is finished too. So I guess this is goodbye, it's been interesting seeing and taking care of you Paul." </p><p>"Thank you for that. Thank you for everything, you were so nice to me." Paul responds softly, hands in his pockets, a small blush painted on his cheeks that made Kahlo become a little flustered himself. "I'll be heading off, going back home. I hope I get to see your cousin again."</p><p>Kahlo chuckled, his smile wide. "Yeah, I hope you do too." He said gently, drinking in Paul's appearance. "Hey, your hair grew a lot." </p><p>"I know, I want to see how long it'd get." </p><p>"Ah." Kahlo uttered, another breeze bristling by as he took a step close. "Well, have a safe trip back Paul." Kahlo said, hesitating a bit but then pushing his anxiousness aside to envelop Paul in a tight hug that evoked a soft gasp from the younger. Paul stood there, growing silent, slightly wide eyed form the sudden embrace but nothing too stunned, in a small second he loosened up. Paul continued to stand still, not actually returning the hug, but he does closes his eyes and nestles his face in the crook of Kahlo's neck, breathing in his cologne. Kahlo smiles, feeling elated beyond elated that Paul didn't push him off. "Ah, I'm going to miss you a lot." </p><p>He just has to get used to know that it won't happen, being a normal guy won't happen, having a new normal friend he gets to meet will never happen either. Paul hummed, face still planted in Kahlo's neck as the older begins to give him advice whilst their friendly hug kept going strong, eventually he removes one hand from his pocket to snake it over towards Kahlo's side. "I'll miss you too, thanks, really." He says lowly, opening his pretty eyes, flipping the pocket knife to its front and sinking it into the side of Kahlo's stomach. Paul hears the pained gasp Kahlo emits, shudders from it, before pulling away from the injured man before he could get blood on him. </p><p>"Paul?" Kahlo hacks up, stilling up as Paul slowly slit the knife just a few inches across his stomach, staring into his eyes with a blank look on his face. "P-Paul wh-" Kahlo's so calm, blood seeping out of him, a burning sensation throttling through him as he falls into his knees, his palm reaching down to tend to the gaping wound. Paul swallows down the burning hurt, but comes out anyway, apologies, meaningless apologies hurling out through his mouth whilst he backs up from a dying Kahlo. </p><p>"I'm sorry Kahlo, I'm so sorry." Paul repeats, "I told you I'm a terrible person." </p><p>"Y-You're not." </p><p>Paul stills at that.</p><p>What?</p><p>Was those really his last words? Paul looked down at Kahlo with widened eyes, the man was already unconscious, possibly going into shock from the immediate loss of blood. Paul couldn't breathe, he wanted to call for help, he wanted to - Paul suddenly had his phone in his hand, ready to dial the number to the ambulance until he heard the sound of someone scream, glasses crashing onto the ground. Paul looked up from his phone with furrowed eyebrows, seeing Felipe rushing back into the house, ready to call the police. Call the police or the ambulance, fuck it didn't matter. Felipe was going to call the ambulance on him. "Fuck." Paul mumbled, trying to keep himself together as he sprinted back towards the house, running track benefiting him once again, his phone and the pocket knife were still in his shaking hands as he raced into the house. </p><p>Felipe was crying too much, barely making it towards the phone in the kitchen when Paul caught up with him, tackling the man onto the ground. Felipe hollered, feeling himself being twisted around so that his back was planted onto the floor. "Stop! Get off of me! You fucking killed him!" Felipe cried out, voice cracking, his eyes becoming bloodshot as he struggled underneath Paul's grip when the young man briefly pinned his arms down. "Get the fuck off of me!"</p><p>"Stop! Listen please, just listen to me. I don't -" Paul kept being interrupted with the sounds of Felipe shrieking out, tears cascading down his cheeks. Paul had nothing else to turn to so he just punched the man in the mouth, dropping his phone and grabbing at Felipe's throat with his left hand, pocket knife still held tight in his right hand's grip. "Just shut the fuck up for a few seconds okay? I don't want to kill you too. You don't understand, I had to do it, I had to kill him. I didn't want to but I had to, there's just this force that makes me do these things and I can't help it."</p><p>Felipe spat in his face. </p><p>Paul blinked with parted lips, registering what happened when a ball of saliva ran down his cheek. Felipe glared at him through tearfilled eyes, wishing he could've done more. Paul sighed, releasing his grip on Felipe's neck, running his sleeve across his face to wipe off the spit as he managed to discipline his rage into a silent motion. Felipe screamed out as Paul forced his mouth opened with his left hand, using his right hand to impale the back of his throat with the knife, knocking his voice box down along with his life force as he stabbed his throat repeatedly.</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>"Seriously, I hate that place. You know what else he did? He literally told my other teacher that since I'm failing in his class, I shouldn't attend volleyball practice anymore." </p><p>Paul paused, recognizing that voice after letting it sink in. That voice sounds incredibly familiar to him, that's interesting. It only took him a couple of more remarks for him to realize that it was Cynthia, the first time he heard her after coming back to Liverpool two weeks ago. Well isn't that odd, the voices come to him instead of him coming to the voices, strange. </p><p>Although it's been awhile since he last saw Cynthia, the girl was still annoying to him. Paul was just about close enough to plugging his earphones back in to muffle out Cynthia until John's voice could be heard, a small sniffle which clued Paul into believing that he was crying earlier. </p><p>"Okay Cyn, I get it. I kind of don't want to talk about it anymore." John said, voice wobbly as he walks alongside Cynthia, watching as the blonde girl roll up the portrait that Paul did not finish drawing of him.  Paul tried to take a good look of the rolled up piece of paper, but he couldn't from this far away, besides that he really hadn't even known that this would be John's school building. "I was really hoping that Paul would at least finish it before he left off to go whereever. Maybe when he comes back, he'll think about it again, but I don't know whenever that will be unless I talk with George." John explained,earning a back rub from Cynthia. Paul peered at the two of them from aside the college building, skimming his eyes over John flushed face, teary brown eyes and the upset demeanor. </p><p>Looks like he hasn't done well in a class. Paul wonders what class made John upset, and he wonders what was it that he had to finish for John. It's completely blank to him right now, but God does John look pretty right now. Whoever made him cry deserves death, but not from him though, or not now at least. Paul continued to stare at the two until another voicemail from George interrupted his staring, he looked at the notification, unsure on whether he should click it or not until he just said fuck it and went against himself. </p><p>'This is my twenty-fifth voicemail to you, which is fine! I don't mind. Just hoping you'd respond back someday because I miss you a lot. Like I said, twenty-five times ago.. I'm sorry for making you upset, again. I think about you all of the time, and if I could go back to reestablish the goal of why you called me in the first place that day, I would.'</p><p>Paul's lip twitched a bit in somewhat hint of a smile, missing George's voice. </p><p>'Paul, wherever you are, come back to me. You'd never want to just up and leave on us, even Michael's concerned too - I'm sure John's just as worried.'</p><p>The flurry of a smile disappeared, his face now set stoned and serious. </p><p>'I love you so much, can you just - please call me back when you can? I don't want to call the police for you again, because who knows how you may react. I hope you're okay. Call me back, okay bye.'</p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Paul vividly remembers when he slapped George to the ground for calling the police on him, something he still regrets doing. God he regrets doing a lot of things to George, making him cry, smacking him, it even goes back to when they were kids, debating on whether or not he should let go of George to let him fall to his possible death. The most relevant thing he regrets now, is making George worried, spamming him with voicemails, some of them including George begging and crying for him to come back. George tearfully apologizing for everything, ones where George was just sitting there and telling him how his day was going even though Paul wasn't there, ones where George would still ask him for advice. Paul doesn't deserve such an angel.</p><p>John only sent him one, only a couple of weeks ago. It gives him the always occuring reminder that John is not George and George is not Jonn. Replaying John's, Paul sighed as John sat down, and said. "I hope you're doing okay, I really want to talk to you. Please come back whenever you're ready. I lov-" John cleared his throat, correcting himself solemnly. "I really like you, so I hope you come back soon." </p><p>Paul makes his decision right then and there, sucking in a breath. "Time to visit some old friends."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I can't come back from this." John murmured under his breath, staring lifelessly at his low grade. A red and powerful 62 percent, right smack on the art project class. John remembered the good times where it used to be at comfortable 78, one time he got lucky and actually made it up to an 82. John always knew that Professor Spence is an annoyingly strict professor, always expecting the top tier work out of each and every assignment he gives out. However, this one was just ridiculous if you put John’s chaotic days in account. Ultimately, John just couldn't see how he'd have the chance to graduate with his head held up high knowing that he's not passing his major class, plus the fact that he lashed out at his professor. At least Cynthia's getting there.</p><p>John glanced dejectedly at his math grade, which wasn't as bad, but according to anyone else it wouldn't be signifcant. He could take a 71.2 better than a bold 62. Seventy is a cute number, and seventy one just gets cuter. John somewhat thinks sixty-two is not as pleasing as seventy-one, it looks depressing and bland, just like sixty-six or one hundred twenty-one. John jumped with a small, surprised squeak when he heard his name get called again, quickly switching tabs back to the conference that involved his principal and Professor Spence, all of it hosted by an angry Cynthia. John unmuted his mic, eyes wide. "Yes? I'm here, sorry, I was just looking at my grades."</p><p>"Hmph," Professor Spence huffed, glaring at his camera. "You see? Even during a conference, he still doesn't pay attention." He pointed out annoyedly, the wifi in his home not doing his voice any service, sounding a bit chippy.</p><p>"I'm sorry." John emitted softly, his voice being immediately drowned out by Cynthia.</p><p>"I've been in his class before. I pay attention all of the time, and he never teaches it right. John has been too, I've been watching him do hard work -" Cynthia raised her voice, leaning forward so that she was right up close with the camera. "- and school for months on end. Covid, and these fucking murders have been in all of our heads. School is not the number one priorty right now. You're actually so lucky that John even got work done in the first place."</p><p>"Miss Powell." The principal called out, gently clearing her throat, wanting to stop or more so <em>delay</em> the heated conversation before it can continue to expand. "I get what you're saying, but I called John's name to hear him speak up about this. So if you do not mind, can you be quiet?" She asked with a small head tilt, her voice being gentle and polite despite the staring contest going on between Spence and Cyn. John twiddled his fingers nervously, eyeing the bowl of grapes set beside him as he tried to conjure up the same feeling he felt when Spence first gave him the harsh letdown. However, John is just - too nice. The principal hummed, looking over towards John's screen: "Now love, please tell us why you think that Professor Spence is not qualified for his job. He's been a professor at this school for years, but I am putting it into light since there had been a number of complaints lately."</p><p>Spence huffed once again, but a warning look from both Cynthia and the principal forced him to shut the hell up this time around. John had sighed out uneasily, unsure if he should have told Cynthia that she can go ahead and plan this meeting, he looks at the camera while speaking in an uncertain tone. "Like Cyn said, his class is very hard to get an actual good grade in. Due to how he teaches, and due to how specific he wants the work to be. I'm going through so much, a lot of people are. I tried to do the work as good as I can but -" John paused and sighed out again, feeling put on the spot since it had gotten extremely silent. Cynthia had a small pout on her face, wanting to give her best friend a hug, bury him with encouraging words. The principal nodded gently, and Spence just sat silently.</p><p>Paul walked nearby, heading into the kitchen when he heard John's voice. John hears his footsteps, looking over towards the man, cheeks growing pink at Paul's appearance but he hid his flustered look with a frown. "What are you doing? I told you to stay in the room." John whispered, shooing Paul away before he could come into view of the camera, it's not like he's ashamed of him (why should he be). Mostly because Cynthia hadn't been informed by John that Paul came back and that they're piecing things together. Halting his movements, Paul looked forward at him with a tinge of confusion, a head tilt and parted lips as he began to speak. John jumped up, shushing him immediately, his hands flailing.</p><p>"John? Who are you talking to?"</p><p>John turned to the camera again, nervous smile on his face along with a blush. "Um I was scolding my cat. His name's Rocky, I told him to stay inside with Mittens and Buddy." He answered, feeling embarassed since two of his cats actually peaked their heads out the slight curve of his wall. Paul stared at him blankly, quiet like he'd been told to whilst John tried to explain himself. So this is the school work John had tugged on him about, being in a conference with two other people which includes the distinctive voice of Cynthia, when he vacated from John's backyard he heard the following conversation. "Spence is a dick." Paul muttered under his breath, pulling in his nail to bite down at it while his gaze retraced its way over towards the cats, watching as the two of them made their way over towards Paul.</p><p>"Well John, Cyn, I have to say that this matter will be further investigated. Professor Spence your behavior will be monitored within the next few weeks, if anymore comments like this comes up between April 15th to April 22nd - you will be temporarily suspended until May 10th."</p><p>John and Cynthia looked upon each other's screens, small victorious smiles beginning to form on their faces, if this was an in-person meeting they'd definitely would be sneaking highfives with each other. On the other hand, Spence seemed genuinely aghast at the fact that he's going to be monitored for at least a week, stammering over his words as his face became painted a ghostly white. "Principal Rose, I have been nothing but a good professor to these kids. You can't just do this, I've been a good teacher here for years -"</p><p>"Without pay Mr. Spence." The principal finished, voice firm. "As said before, this is not the first instance of you doing this to our students. Further argument from you affixing to this matter will push me more to believe that you've been neglecting the directive of being a teacher in this college."</p><p>Paul eventually turned to leave by the end of that strict proclamation, heading back into the backyard. John briefly looked over his way, watching as the younger left with a small frown on his face whilst his cats began to trot dutifully behind him, tails perched in the air as they walked richly. When the principal called his name again, he jumped for the second time. "As for you John, your grade will be changed to a A+. You are known to be a good student, there has been no troubles for you, and I take the matter of you not being able to focus because of what's happening in the world right now seriously. Like Cynthia said, you still sat down and went to do your school work, I'm proud of that."</p><p>John's face lit up, eyes sparkling prettily as he basically almost tackled his computer off of the table, getting close to the camera with a relieved expression on his face. "Really? Oh thank you. Thank you so much. I appreciate it so much, this means a lot."</p><p>"Congrats Johnny!" Cynthia chirped, feeling like a proud big sister, clapping her hands cheerfully. Stuart paused his Netflix original show, glancing over at Cynthia with a curious look on his face since he hadn't been listening to the whole conversation. While the principal kept making little speeches, she turned away from the computer screen and squealed happily. "It worked, she's giving him a hundred, and he's going to pass the class for the first time. The project grade was a big grade so this'll have him at a ninety at least."</p><p>"Keep your head up John, I'm glad you two came to me about this. We'll be looking deeper into it this following week. Now I must say this google meet is adjourned, I have to tend to my five year old. Spence you are required to join another meet with the secretary and me at 6 pm." Principal Rose said, and the switch up in her tone going from sweet to firm again made John more enveloped with this principal. "Now you all can leave, good luck John."</p><p>Once John clicked off with a small wave, he slowly closed his computer with a relieved exhale. Thank God that went well. John thought the google meeting was about to go to hell, and it probably would have if Cynthia hadn't been there to rally with John. However, principal Rose is always very opened to drinking in both sides of the story whenever there's disagreements, but John is would have lost the whole confrontation if Spence brung up how he exploded at him in the classroom. John shuddered at that, shaking his head, stepping off of the chair to make his way down to the hallway to head down the same direction Paul went.</p><p>Enough with school matters, now it's time to deal with <em>this</em> fella. The same fella that hurt him so much, but still finds his way on living inside of John's delicate heart. John groaned to himself at the degrading thought of possibly letting himself be walked over again, reminding himself that he's just too fucking nice for his own good. Paul should be out in the dumps right now with his stupidly lovely face and soft, manipulating voice, nice hands that grab him at the right places, gentle lips that makes his head fucking flood. But no, he's still here in his home, because John is still in love with him and <em>apparently</em> Paul is in love with John, the auburn haired man simply does not want to believe it.</p><p><em>Why so damn sudden? You say the opposite, and leave, then come back wanting me to slowly forgive you?</em> John thinks to himself, wondering why he should even try sometimes. However, he wants to forgive Paul too, despite his estranged feelings for it.</p><p>John <em>wants</em> to be with him, the strong feelings of him wanting to be something with Paul is there, especially when Paul gave him the option. If he really wants the younger to fuck off, then he would have taken up on the decision. John loves him, and there's no escaping that.</p><p>Paul stood quietly in front of the door that opens to John's backyard, his hazel eyes taking in the spring setting, the grass beginning to regrow from the harsh winter weather that doomed the area months beforehand, flowers already blooming, blossoming gorgeously around the far corners where the grass had already grown out. Trees were scattered around the neighborhood apart form John's backyard being spotted with leaves of different colors, falling into the array of a beautiful shade of light pink and earthly green, lovable yellow, some having spots of orange all around. There's colors of purple here and there, blue if you look harder, the bugs beginning to pour in for their feast to enjoy the short lifespan they have left. Butterflies accompanying the vibe of the spring scenery that's gingerly beginning to blossom within each day and hour, second.</p><p>Paul likes spring, he used to like it a lot according to his father. The rare times where Paul would genuinely be involved with things would be in the light of spring, the presence of spring break causing the kids to be released from school for at least a week or two. So no trouble, no bullying, and no parent to parent conferences or phone calls from school would plague the McCartney's. Baby Michael would be propped up on Jim's shoulders, the two of them laughing joyously from father to youngest son as Jim ran them around the grassy field they'd visit when a picnic was planned. Paul would be sitting on a blanket with his mother, watching with a bright smile on his face as a ladybug crawls its way onto his forearm, glancing over at his mother with innocent wide eyes and calling out to her to see her reaction.</p><p>Mary would smile at him with fond eyes, reaching over at him to caress his little cheek, giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead. Paul remembered feeling so at peace. Jim walking over to the two of them, setting down little Michael next to Paul to give Mary a couple of loving kisses as the two boys turned to each other. Paul held Michael's little hand, letting the lady bug drop into the baby's palm, smiling as the baby boy gazed curiously at the bug before giggling softly.</p><p>Paul closed his eyes once the sting became too much, a tear running down his cheek, dropping down immediately.</p><p>"Hey, what did you want to eat -" John cut himself off as he touched Paul's hand, eyebrows furrowed as he craned his head to see Paul quietly crying, the man was visibly in deep thought. Paul jolted back and away from John's random appearance, eliciting a high gasp, before immediately recognizing that it was John. Just John, that's good, that's fine. After murmuring a low 'sorry' Paul reached up to wipe at his eyes, feeling John stare at him with a shocked expression painted on his face.</p><p>Wow, Paul was crying.</p><p>No, Paul <em>is</em> crying, holy shit.</p><p>That was something that John was not prepared for despite that he'd seen Paul <em>close</em> to crying only that one time, teary-eyed but not officially crying. However he is <em>actually</em> crying here, and John never thought he would see it any time soon, to be frank he didn't really know what to say.</p><p>Paul sniffed softly and went back to staring out the window, eyes still glassy as it skimmed over the lovely scenery. "I was just going to check if you had any fruits, like an apple or an orange or something. I'm sorry if I got you into any trouble with whoever you were talking to."</p><p>"Paul," John grabbed his hand, trying to make his voice as firm as he could. "Look at me."</p><p>Paul sighed, not wanting to put up a fight since he honestly didn't have any choice. Slowly, he began turning his head to look over at John, eyes flickering over the older man's genuinely worried face. With his heart wrenching, he mumbled lifelessly. "I'm fine you know, standing here just aggravates my allergies. You know, since it's spring, and -"</p><p>"God, will you shut up with that?" John whined out in a soft voice, squeezing at Paul's hand in reprimand. Paul stared at him, for a little bit, keeping his eyes scrutinized on John as the older man spoke again. "It's okay to admit you're crying, you don't have to lie to me about it. I cry too, it's natural and it's nothing to be ashamed of. I have no idea what made you upset, but I'm willing to be someone you can talk to because -" John paused in mid sentence for a bit, focusing in on Paul's eyes before mustering up enough confidence to continue. "Because I love and care about you."</p><p>Paul became immensely quiet, just standing there staring at John for a long minute.</p><p>Eventually John sighed out, cheeks red with embrassment and his head lowered a bit in disappointment as he released his hold on Paul's hand. "I don't understand you. It's like you've changed but you're still locked up in a way, I don't get it. I don't get you. I want to help you, help <em>us</em>, but you being silent with me isn't going to work." John said, looking up into Paul's glistening eyes again, ready for some type of response but all he got was just a slow blink, and a small, tired exhale. John frowned, getting upset himself due to the flustered expression on his face. "What do you want from me? Why are you like this?"</p><p>Still, there was a trained silence.</p><p>John just about had it, there was a scowl on his face when he dropped his hands to his side, beginning to turn away so that he can leave. "You know what? Fine, if you don't want to talk now then I'll just wait until you want to talk later. I'm not going to force -" He got cut off with a gasp once Paul yanked him back, settling him gently against the glass door. John's eyes widened into literal saucers, his voice hitching lightly. "Hey! What are you -"</p><p>Paul cut him off, swooping in for a much needed kiss that sucked the breath out of John's lungs. Once their lips met for the first time in fucking months, John's eyes fluttered closed with a soft sound, hands twitching whilst blood pumped through his veins when they found themselves resting on the younger's forearms, letting Paul's soft lips take him on a throwback journey. Paul missed him so much, the way John would immediately loosen up under his affectionate touch, enjoying the way he shivered lightly when Paul's hands soon found his waist, gently gripping him and holding him still against the glass their lips moved along together. Pulling away with a gentle intake of breath, Paul had to take a few seconds just to properly gather himself while John panted softly with flushed cheeks and wondering eyes that traveled down to Paul's lips again.</p><p>"Sorry," Paul cleared his throat, straining to not do unholy things to this man. "I didn't mean to make you upset. I just zoned out staring at you, that's all." John literally crumbled at that, face growing red with a shaky breath inhale. Ugh, he wants to punch him for saying something so cheesy, but flattering like that. "I'm able to talk but it's still kind of hard."</p><p>John swallowed, still not over the kiss. "Then you can go slow. I mean you can - you can talk slow or just say however much you want." He stammered, meaning two different things in one saying, but Paul still understood what he meant. In both ways. One hand left John's waist to feel up against his soft cheek, hand caressing his face affectionately as his eyes darted all over John's face which made the older press up more against the glass, the intimacy becoming almost too much for him to handle without letting out embarassing noises.<br/><br/><br/></p><p>"All the shit that would happen at school didn't matter in spring time. That's the only time where I felt like an actual kid, if that makes sense. I got emotional because I don't think I'll ever have the chance to relive those moments where I'm free."</p><p>"Free from what?"</p><p>Paul looked over at John with helpless eyes, "Myself." He answered lowly. John didn't look confused, judgemental, or anything. Maybe because he didn't know what that meant, or maybe he did. Paul slightly hopes that he did at that moment, he hopes John would get the message, call the cops on him and captures his opportunity to leave before he gets in too deep with Paul. When John went and grabbed at his hand, interlacing their fingers together, Paul shuddered in guilt closing his eyes for five seconds before reopening them.</p><p>"I used to hurt kids when I was young, I stabbed one, made one try to drink chemicals, stepped one a kid's hand so that they could fall off the monkey bars. You might be wondering why I did that. It's because they used to hurt me, all of the time until I eventually snapped."</p><p>"What did they do to you?" John asked him gently, his tone of voice being curious along with a touch of sympathy, nothing related to digust or fear though. Paul's breath hitched a bit when John grazed his fingers lightly against the back of Paul's hand, reassuring circles, invisible doodles to keep Paul comfortable. The younger stared at John's hand with wet eyes. To keep him comfortable? John's the one basically having Paul tread on a murder confession and he's trying to keep <em>Paul</em> comfortable.</p><p>Fucking hell.</p><p>This feels like a trap, Paul's half deciding if he should tear open John's shirt to see if there's some type of audio recorder there, passing any information onto the police department.</p><p>Rattling himself out of it, Paul breathed in. "They did a lot of things to me. Punching, kicking, spitting, stomping me and other <em>things</em>, sometimes. I don't want to get further into what they've physically did to me." Paul tensed at the memories, "But it was also a lot of verbal things that just killed me every time I attended school." As he thought about it, he could feel a warm, blood curdling feeling that related to anger pregnate in his chest which caused his demeanor to darken just a bit. John noticed it, immediately scooting closer to Paul and snuggling against the side of his body, murmuring a soft 'it's over now' while kissing gently at his cheek.</p><p>Paul felt himself relax as John continued to pepper him with kisses. "The last straw was this kid named Brady, he got me bad in the cafeteria. Nurse tried to excuse it as boys being boys, but I'm a boy and you didn't see me going around making people's lives hell." He explained, remembering the way a cold chill washed over his little body as he sat in the nurse's room, the words echoing in his head. That hot fever that got to him when he was three years old coming back briefly at that very moment, vanishing when the nurse patted lightly at his cheek, picking him up to help him off of the bed.</p><p>"Mhm," John hummed in understanding, resting his cheek on Paul's chest, listening to the younger man's heartbeat as he talked.</p><p>"So as soon as I had the chance to, right in the middle of a class where we had to cut out different information pieces or some shit. I saw him with his friends, and I was just so mad at him. So -"</p><p>"You grabbed the scissors and stabbed him." John finished, hugging Paul close. "I think.. you could have handled it in a different way. But dealing with that kind of consistent trauma and anger makes you blackout, you end up doing something extremely volatile." John said, rubbing small circles into Paul's stomach, feeling the firmness of his abdomen underneath his shirt. Paul listened to him, nodding his head slowly although John couldn't see it. "It's alright if you feel a little crazy for doing it, I would too if I were in your situation. I personally think that you were just backed into a corner and you did whatever you told yourself was right."</p><p>Paul hummed, his fingers threading through John's hair as he mumbled. "It differs."</p><p>John shrugged his shoulders, and released a giggle as he thought about it. "At least we can both agree that Brady is an asshole." He said, listening at the way Paul laughed breathily at that. "As for you being free from yourself though. I think I know what you mean, but I may be wrong."</p><p>Paul inhaled sharply at that, mind coursing like an aggressive river, ocean tides in a hurricane, a tsunami of thoughts and assumptions settling into his mind. Paul was covering the sound by coughing a bit, cursing lowly at himself for seeming so jumpy just from a simple sentence. "Let me hear it. I'm curious." He told John, causing the man to quickly sit up with Paul's hand still clasped in his, staring fondly at Paul with a slightly shy look on his face.</p><p>"I'm no psychologist, but perhaps it's because you get so panicky when you become a little too vulnerable. The being free thing." John said, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he visibly tried to find his words. "You aren't really getting the control you used to have over yourself because as you've grown up, you've been through too many tragedies to expose yourself to anything that makes you feel good. When you do, it makes you breakdown." John said, looking into Paul's eyes with an unsure look on his face. "You overthink, and you're trying to overcome something that's inside of you."</p><p>Wow.</p><p>That's a better analysis than <em>anything</em> Jane could come up with. Better than what anyone would come up with actually, even <em>George</em>. Paul is genuinely astonished with what John came up with, so close to being true, hell he might not even know himself enough to measure whether or not John is accurate. It's kind of scary how easily John could read him without even getting the full picture, he even guessed right on Paul trying to overcome something that's inside of him. This man is unbelievable. Paul is beginning to think John is actually an angel, sent to him by other angels that has been watching over his life from that point on.</p><p>God he looks like an angel, his personality, his smile, all of it is angelic. Paul loves him.</p><p>John blushed at the silence, somewhat shying away from the gaze Paul was sending him. "I mean this what I perceive, but I might be wrong. Please don't get offended, I just -"</p><p>"How are you real?" Paul questioned softly, suddenly caging John in against his couch, a similiar position they were in months before when Paul broke down. "You hit the nail, and I didn't even tell you much. Are you an angel or something? What else do you figure about me?"</p><p>Looking up at Paul with widened eyes, heat pooling down his abdomen at the close proximity, John had furrowed his brows at him and whined out stubbornly. "I'm not a mind reader, nor am I an angel. Now get off of me before you start something between us. I'm still mad at you you know, so you can get any idea of doing anything with me out of your head." John said, even though the way his body curved into Paul's and the blood dropping down his groin along with a the flushed look on his face said a different story. When Paul slowly began to smirk at him, for the first time in awhile, John forced himself to not do anything stupid.</p><p>Although he truthfully missed the playfully flirty atmosphere regarding to the two of them, something that sparked their attraction in the first place, John is still deeply threaded in his feelings about their rough patch that led to Paul's disappearance. "Seriously though, and you still didn't even tell me what you did when you were gone."</p><p>Paul's small smirk had soon vanished when those words sunk in, immediately moving off of John, and sitting back in his old spot with a thoughtful look on his face. "Oh, yes, I kind of forgot about that. My apologies." He said, making John look at him as if he were crazy. "I left because I regretted hurting you."</p><p>John frowned at that, slightly confused. "Paul you could have just said that you were sorry during the car ride, I even said something to you and you just ignored me."</p><p>"I know. I'm sorry, I really am. I just thought about what you said before I said those things to you, and then I realized that I truly do love you. But it's just -" Paul cut himself off, throat constricting and his jaw tightening as he thought about what that means for John. Fuck, he needs to find another way to word this. John watched as Paul froze up in midsentence, looking not like himself, terrified actually and it made the older feel a bit uneasy until Paul resumed speaking. "I just felt like I'd be a bad fit for you because of how I am. Like you said, I broke down, again, but away from you this time." Yeah, that works. John's expression softened, his eyes looking fond. Paul wants to hug him for some reason .</p><p>John hummed gently, nodding his head. "Well. Where did you go though? I doubt that you were driving for a month."</p><p>"Well I ended up in Southhampton for a couple of days." Paul answered back, thinking back to it. Kahlo taking him in with a polite smile, feeding him until Paul could stand properly, just all out being a good person. Paul felt nauseous, no longer feeling comfortable talking about it when the room grew completely silent. Something strongly told him that he already said too much, especially when John had a stunned expression on his face, widened eyes and parted lips.</p><p>Oh, <em>fuck</em>.</p><p>John blinked, his eyebrows raised to his hairline as he tried to speak, his voice breathless with shock. "Paul.. two murders happened in Southhampton," John said, weariness in his voice as he immediately scolded the younger, not noticing the breath of relief Paul had took. Damn, he should've been more careful. "You could have been in big danger if you stayed there, it was reported earlier this morning too so you're safe. You big idiot." He mumbled the last part under his breath, rubbing his temples as Paul went to go back to chewing on his nail until his teeth came into contact with his skin.</p><p>That was close.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clicking the vacuum cleaner off after finishing the carpet in the middle of the living room, Nora reached into her back pocket to grab at her vibrating phone, answering the call with a frustrated sigh. "Hello? This is Nora Jones speaking." </p><p>"Hey! It's the Liverpool police dep-" </p><p>Nora pressed the 'end call' button with a shiver, not a trace of hesitance in her action. "Nope." She muttered under her breath, shaking her head in denial that the police department is actually going to go into a spur of calling her cellphone after all of the shit that happened with her children disappearing. Nora could already see the bullshit that could mount up in her conscience when it comes to this, her children are on the brink of driving her insane with this 'I know the serial killer' theory they have going on. Now - who the hell knows what could happen to them? They're probably on a witness list, smacked under federal supervision, just a lot of mix-ins that she feared would happen when Lily started getting these nightmares. </p><p> Beginning to place her phone back into her pocket, Nora immediately raised a hand up to her cheek, ready to wipe aggressively at a tear beginning to stray from her glossy eyes. <em>Keep it together, keep it together, you've held yourself up for this long</em>.  Nora clasped her hands in front of herself, her glistened eyes roaming around her home observantly to see if anything had been misplaced or not cleaned yet. The carpet is thoroughly vaccumed, floors are swept and mopped, the windows are wiped clean with the blinds hooked up and the curtains are parted so that the rays of the sun can pour inside of the household. Nora sniffed, taking a step backwards and looking around the room for the second time before whirling around to face the wall, bending down to unplug the vacuum cleaner. <em>There's no need to break now. </em></p><p>Sounds of small footsteps entering the living room hadn't surprised her, instead she kept her face emotionless so that whoever child it was can not see the despair. Nora kept her head down, wrapping the chord up in her hand as she neared the vacuum to place the wrapped chord onto the hook, her hands trembling a little as she did so. Peter entered the living room quietly, physically drawn in by the scent of lemon cleaner and the obnxious sound of the vacuum that jolted him awake earlier on in the day. "Mom? It's like seven in the morning. Why are you cleaning this early?" Peter asked after a couple of beats, glancing over at his mother and watching in concern as she rolled the machine away, briefly out of sight to put the cleaner back into the pantry. Swallowing down the fact that he was ignored, Peter managed to walk towards the couch with a nervous look in his eyes. </p><p>To him, this all meant that his mother was angry. </p><p>Before he could sit down on the couch, Nora sauntered back into the living room, it seemed way too quick from placing the vacuum cleaner back into the pantry. "Before you sit down, go and get your sister. I'm about to cook some breakfast and I want you both in the kitchen." </p><p>Peter gulped, and tried to explain himself for the last time. "Mom look, if this is about the other day, then you have to understand that we can actually try and catch whoever did this to -" </p><p>"Peter Avery Jones. Go and get your sister. You do <em>not</em> want to be on my bad side this morning, I am not in the mood." Nora repeated, squinting her eyes at him. Peter squeaked a little when her voice deepened to pass forward the seriousness, and the depth of the tension deposited onto the three of the people in that household. Nora kept her hardened expression, despite the tremor that coursed through her own body once she uttered those words. </p><p>"Okay, I'll go and get her." Peter said, obeying his mother's orders, rushing away from the couch to head out of the living room with fast steps. Nora watched silently as he left to retrieve his sister, a fuzzy, tear dotted vision welcoming itself into her eyes. With her bottom lip quivering just a bit, she murmured her ex husband's name under her breath, cursing him for everything to come and then cursing herself for not being there. Although Nora isn't really mad, she still feels agitated towards everything  for being so fearful when it comes to making any moves on how to bring justice to the brutal murder of the father of their children. </p><p>At times when she's real deep in thought about the issue, it brings her to tears how it wasn't just her former husband being in danger. </p><p>Lily and Peter were in danger as well. </p><p>That strange man literally sneaking into his house, and actually interacting with Lily even though it had been brief, stabbing the man to death in his own shower, then leaving altogether? Nora wipes at her eyes, heads into the kitchen, her walk being unbalanced and wobbly. What kind of monster does that? Right when there are kids in the house too? Truamatizing the children for years and cutting their father from their lives, all because of what? Nora wonders if it's too assert dominance or just to feel powerful, but why for? Traveling from Liverpool more than likely to head over to a whole other area to just <em>slaughter</em> someone in their own house. What's the gain from doing something so heinous and criminally charged? It's so fucking sick.</p><p>Nora feels incredibly weak, and understandably scared. To be frank, she doesn't want anything to do with the other murders, knowing that the mere involvement with one of the detectives on the case is already extremely massive. However, she'd feel selfish since they're one of the families who is suffering out of the other twenty plus victims. Nora just knows that she's too weak for this, Lily is becoming sick all over with this and Peter wants to take up his father's role in doing what's right, but it's just <em>too</em> much. The media, the neverending pandemic, the other families still unsure on where the body of their loved ones are, the questions, the assumptions, and the dreadful quesiton on whether or not if Lily is even close to being right on whoever she <em>thinks</em> the murderer looks like. </p><p>They'd look like fools, the whole family. It would appear like they'd all let the other victims families down too, having the atrocious determination to get everyone's hopes up over something so sensitive. To Nora, if there's a possible failure in helping the investigation, then that's just rubbing salt all over the hideous wounds. </p><p>Nora bit at her lip, readying the pancake batter unconciously, not even paying any mind to the measurements needed to properly fix them. Hell, she didn't even remember getting the supplies out to start cooking anything. Too mixed up in the distraction of her thoughts, too mixed up from the tension of heat riding up her backside, the nausea coiling in her stomach as she breathed in a much needed breath to bring some oxygen into her head. </p><p>Christ.</p><p>Lily and Peter walked into the kitchen in the middle of her whisking the batter around the measuring cup, her daughter Lily looking absolutely pale and tired as if she had trouble sleeping throughout the night again. Peter held her hand protectively, steadying her since Lily seemed a bit unbalanced herself from the lack of sleep and exhaustion threading throughout her little body. Nora looked up from the batter at them after a couple of minutes, gripping the whisk tightly as her kids pulled two chairs from the dinner table towards the countertop in which their mom had been preparing their breakfast at. Lily seemed hesitant to do anything at first, eventually sitting down quietly with twiddling fingers as her older brother sat down next to her in his own chair, head lowered in a feeling related to shame. </p><p>Nora sniffed, looked back down at the batter and continued to whisk, drawing the inside of her cheek in to bite down at it. Lily inhaled in the meantime, glancing over at her brother who last minutely looked back at her. Before Peter could even meet her eyes, Lily was already chirping, her words moving faster than her thoughts. "Mom, we're sorry for worrying you, but I really think you can hear us out. I promise you, this will do us well in the future. I know who the killer is, and I've seen him too." </p><p>"Lily don't -" Peter began a little too late, his voice shrinking immediately when their mother aggressively smacked her hand down on the top of the counter. </p><p>"What did I say? I said no, didn't I? Now stop bringing this up. You two are already in deep trouble, and I don't want to hear another word about this at all." </p><p>Lily's eyes widened, mouth parting opened in shock as she birthed a inaudible gasp. Peter shivered, looking down at the patterns of the countertop whilst Nora went to retrieve a pan and a non stick spray. Lily had to sit there for a few seconds, registering what was said until she slowly began to ball her hands into fist and furrow her eyebrows, a scowl beginning to print itself onto her tired face. "Why not? Why don't you want us to help these people? Why should everyone suffer and not face the justice that should be served? Why don't you want to help?"</p><p>Nora placed the pan down onto the stove with a loud rattle, blinking away the teary burn in her eyes as she shook the non stick spray bottle aggressively, preparing to spray it onto the pan afterwards. "Lily, I'm not going to repeat myself." </p><p>"Why don't you want justice mom?" </p><p>Peter swallowed hard, his mouth slowly becoming dry, desperately feeling as if he should say something. The boy shifted in his seat, closing his eyes, and raising both of his hands up his ears without actually noticing that he's doing it. </p><p>Nora sprayed the pan, her eyes looking cold, and her jaw being tightly clenched. </p><p>Lily raised her voice, the raspy sound, the tiredness and the trauma seeping through her tone. "Oh, no, I get it! It's because you've never loved dad! You <em>hated</em> him! Even before he died, when he'd take us to you during summer vacations, you'd never let us talk about him! You hated him, and you <em>still</em> do!" She blurted out, the sudden flash of shock and anger getting the best of her. Peter stifled a whimper from beside her, continuing to cover his ears as his sister yelled. Nora paused what she was doing, her eyes widening and her eardrums bursting with the sound of her heart thumping against her ribcage. "You hate <em>us</em> too I bet. You don't even care how long we've been suffering because of this, and -"</p><p>"<em>You</em> shut the fuck up!" Nora suddenly lashed out, whirling around to face Lily. "Just shut the fuck up Lily! You don't even know the <em>extent</em> as to how much I care about you two, so don't go and say something so fucking despicable." </p><p>Lily's eyes were glassy, her body trembling as she stuttered. "N-Notice how you just glossed over what I said before that?" </p><p>"Notice how I'm <em>this</em> close to smacking you if you don't shut up?" </p><p>Her daughter glared at her, silence suddenly enveloping her.</p><p>Peter uncovered his ears, his voice shaking. "Mom, please, she's just sick. We all are. I don't think she meant what she said. Lily's just really upset, and it's just getting to her." He explained, triyng to calm the two of them down the best he could. After all, Lily <em>is</em> just eight years old, and he's pretty sure that she's just rambling whatever her thoughts were feeding her. Besides, their mother is kind of just throwing away their feelings, avoiding what seems like an inevitable outcome no matter how she wants it. What adds onto that is - they were never as close with their mom than they had been with their dad, it's all just a deeply complicated pattern of emotions that's been haunting them for years. </p><p>Nora shuddered from the feeling of indignation rising, ready to say something at Peter's statement until her phone vibrated in her backpocket again. Pulling it out of her pocket, and turning away so that they were facing her side, she sent a look over at her children who were now comforting each other. Inhaling to gather some much needed air, she answered the phone and held it up to her ear, calling out in blunt voice. "Hello?"</p><p> "Ah! Nora, it's me Brian. From the other day, remember?" </p><p>Nora stilled, almost releasing an almost unhinged giggle until she gracefully caught herself. "What do you want? I have my kids with me now, I don't think you can keep calling me anymore, we're all fine." She said this as she stared at Lily staring blankly at nothing, silent tears rolling down her cheek. </p><p>Brian twiddled his pen between his fingers, deeply surveying the the sight of the empty parking lot as he leant against the hood of his car. "Can't I get a hey back? Life is short you know, can't be rude to people all of the time." He said, some type of stubborn teasing hidden in his voice. </p><p>Nora's voice shook as she talked, almost breaking the phone in her grip, gathering the attention of her kids. "What do you want from me? I <em>said</em> my kid's are fine, and they're with me now. I don't think I need you calling me anymore if it's regarding them." </p><p>Brian chuckled softly, continuing to twiddle until he shoved his pen into his pocket, pushing himself off of his car after taking a glimpse of his watch. "Well Nora, I'm sorry to keep hounding you, but I'm afraid that we can't just let you tip-toe away." He began in a nonchalant tone, pacing casually towards the library with his other hand dipping into his suit pocket. "As much as I want to leave you and your family alone, especially with all of you've been through, I can not allow that to happen. It's my job, including many others jobs, to find who this serial killer is and your daughter explained that she can gives us some information." </p><p>"She's fucking eight." Nora said, speaking past the sounds of worn violin strings that rattled off in her head, the cool feeling of blood suddenly not pumping correctly due to how hard her heart was pounding almost made her words slur together. "She doesn't know what she's talking about, don't try and bring my kids into this or I swear to God -" </p><p>"Nora, it's not like any of you have a choice." Brian cooly replied with a suddenly new demeanor, opening the doors to the building and letting the breeze of the AC rack up his suit. He could hear the startled breath hitch in the woman's throat, the aura of denial circulating through the lines of the phone. "There's been a line of desperation that's been far crossed, and two new murders have came up over the week in Southampton to add onto that."</p><p>"Okay, but that's in a totally different part of -" Nora cut herself off immediately, quickly realizing how disgusting she'd sound at that moment if she ever tries to finish that sentence. Basically putting in the hint of desentization of two people losing their lives just because it wasn't in Liverpool or any other town nearby where the murderer is suspected to really prey on their victims. Peter stared at her, listening in the best he could. His best bet is that his mother was speaking to one of the detectives, hopefully to Brian. </p><p>"You were saying?" </p><p>"Nevermind." Nora muttered under her breath, feeling her shoulders sag, nausea swirling around in her stomach.</p><p>"If you're free next week, then I can schedule an appointment to question you and your children on Wednesday. Around five would be nice, we can have dinner." </p><p>"And what if we don't go?" Nora challenged, the unhinged laugh fluttering in her question, showing how unstable all of this was making her. "They're children, you can't just pull them into such a case like this. They're too young, it's going to confuse them." </p><p>Brian roamed around with a slight smile of amusement on his face, the sight of books drawing him in despite the conversation he's having. "Nora, the two of them snuck out because the little girl kept having dreams of the man. I'm pretty sure the damage is very well done. Plus, if they want to be involved in the case, who am I - no who are <em>we</em> to stop them? I'd hate to worsen their trauma, truly, but like I said none of you have a choice." Brian heard some chatter nearby, and stopped in his tracks, briefly listening in on the noises before retracing his hearing back to Nora's slightly labored breaths. </p><p>"Let them be little heroes, a few questions and guidance from them is all I want." </p><p>"I'm not going."</p><p>Brian sighed out in slight annoyance, "Ah, you have a problem listening, don't you?" He questioned lightly before lowering his voice, sounding dark. "If you don't come, then I'm going to have to detain you. Hold you under arrest, I'm sure your kids don't want to see their mother arrested right?"</p><p>Nora teared up stifling a sound that resembled a whimper, her throat burned. "<em>Fuck you</em>." </p><p>"I'll see you on Wednesday." Brian said with a small, pained but relieved smile, hanging up shortly afterwards. Well that's a way to will your witness into submission. He hated using this threatening tactic towards people in obvious distress, feeling as if it violated rights but he couldn't take another sleepness night of knowing that two more people were killed. Brian needs all of the help he could get. </p><p>All of it. </p><p>So trekking around the shelf towards the sounds of chatter he heard earlier, Brian cleared his throat. "Ah, I'd figured you two would be here!" </p><p>"Brian! What are you doing here?" John squeaked out from the sudden greeting, almost dropping the books he was holding onto the floor, jumping a bit from the strike of fear that rattled through him. Paul just tensed up and turned around with a slightly surprised expression on his face. </p><p>Paul eyed Brian once he recognized him, tightly clutching onto the books he was holding, something in his gut twisted with the way Brian's eyes stared wonderously at him. It was as if the older man was suspecting something, and he didn't like it at all. Not one bit. So with a intent, he wrapped his arm around a spooked John's waist, pulling him in possessively which made John look up at him with a slight blush on his cheeks. "Oh, it's you Brian. It's been awhile." </p><p>"Yes, it has been awhile -" Brian started, meeting Paul's eyes. "Actually, I want to catch up with you, if you don't mind, Paul." </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 28</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>part 1 of two ig. this is short &amp; boring lmfao.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"That jacket, it looks incredible on you by the way." John blinked, sitting down on the chair across from where  Brian stood, seemingly caught off guard by the compliment. Paul eyed Brian, feeling slighted in a way as he went to sit next to John. Brian smiled at John, somewhat knowing what he was doing when he said that, but the younger did look good in the jacket. Actually, Brian observed that he looks good in general, his hair cutely tussled but still neater than it had been any other time, pure brown eyes sparkling with a light he hadn't seen in days. Ha, must be because of the return of McCartney.</p><p>"Thanks Brian." John uttered, thanking the mask for hiding the flush of his cheeks since Paul was basically <em>radiating</em> some type of discontent towards the sudden compliment. Brian removed his mask, a small smirk on his face as he turned to walk over towards the opened door of the study room, closing it with a gentle hum. To his assumption the librarian wouldn't mind the door being closed, if there's a knock and an intrusion later on he could just tell whoever it is that all three of them are studying together. A bit foolish since Brian is a detective, and he obviously looks like one at the moment, but he'd take whatever reaction he gets. It doesn't matter.</p><p>"Seriously John," Brian turned to the man, licking his lips first before continuing. "You just get more and more prettier each day."</p><p>"What did you want to talk about?" Paul asked, voice cool and his face unmoved despite the bubbling annoyance that plagued him, however Brian can hear something tense in there as well as John. "I don't mind sharing compliments about how beautiful John looks right now, but we're kind of busy today."</p><p>Brian laughs a bit, hand on his chest. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't stand here and say nothing about how he looks right now. Especially in this light, and you know how the jacket just brings out his eyes." He softened his voice by the end, paying close attention to the way John's eyes widened from the neverending trades of compliments between the two of them. "Once again I apologize, but he just looks so <em>cute</em>." Paul caught onto what he was doing soon enough, especially when the older put emphasis on the word, he hid a laugh with a cough and glanced over at John whose stunned eyes were still on Brian.</p><p>"He does, doesn't he?" Paul asked, playing along with Brian as his hand suddenly clasped onto the older's thigh, making John release a small gasp, capturing his attention. Their eyes met, right up until John had to basically force himself to look away before he could make another embarassing sound, to be honest - being hit on by two very handsome men hadn't been something he'd be prepare to take on today. Especially Paul, it hits different when it's Paul because <em>Jesus</em>.</p><p>"Can -" John began, taking a deep breath, grasping weakly at Paul's hand that still gripped at his thigh, John might be going crazy but he doesn't remember Paul's hand being his thigh up against his crotch. <em>I know he didn't just - ugh.</em> John huffed, trying to gather himself as he continued.  "Can you two just get to the conversation already? Both of you are extremely handsome too, if that's what you want to hear."</p><p>"Right," Brian chuckled, taking a seat in his chair across from the pair which made Paul break away his gaze from John. "So first things first, where have you been my man? It's been like weeks since I've last seen you. I thought you were going to help us find this serial killer, and you just up and leave?" He asked, genuinely wondering where the hell Paul ran off to, as he talked he let the tips of his fingers tap on the top of the table. Paul removed his mask, placing it down on the table since he's being questioned for some reason, he might as well do it anyway.</p><p>"I just had to take a leave." Paul replied, tilting his head in thought. "It's just a bunch of personal reasons, mostly including my feelings for John. I don't really feel like getting into it though." He added on, feeling as if it was necessary to include the main part as to why he left. John was taking off his mask as Paul spoke, presenting the adorable, but faint blush that still occupied his cheeks.</p><p>"Well, where'd you go to?" Brian asked, sitting casually, elbows and forearms on the table with a slumped posture as if he weren't a detective but just a high school student.</p><p>"Southampton." Paul answered calmly, and just from the surprised expression that drew itself onto Brian's face, he already knew what the response to that answer would be. Before Brian could even speak though, the younger continued. "I know, I know, two people were killed back there. It's very strange, and I bet the timing seems weird. I only heard about it as soon as I got back here, John told me actually." John nodded his head at that, giving up on trying to subtly trying to pry Paul's hands off of his thigh, and just leaving his palm on the other man's hand, tracing small circles into his skin.</p><p>"Must be heartbreaking to hear about, another murder happening. Think about how upset the families must be, it's unsettling, isn't it?"</p><p>John nodded again, this time looking distraught. "I'm scared if someone is going to hurt themselves over these two, like how Marline did. It is unsettling, and I had hope that whoever it was stopped because of the gap of days. I guess not though." He admitted, sounding genuinely beaten up about it, something in John's voice made Paul's stomach twist in a big knot that you couldn't untie for the life of you. Paul's face remained unmoved though despite the growing discomfort, much to Brian's dismay.</p><p>Brian looked at John, a soft expression on his face. "John, love, do you ever feel like you're in danger sometimes? It doesn't matter with who really, but for example, let's say you're with Paul or someone. Do you ever feel targeted?"</p><p>Paul looked at John, an eyebrow raised despite the coiling irritation towads Brian when it came to that question. Out of all people, it had to be him? Why couldn't it be Cynthia? The killer doesn't have a confirmed gender or anything, so why should it be Paul? If not just Paul then why any other man? Although his body language seemed to be nonchalant, almost bored, Paul couldn't help but to give John's thigh a squeeze just to see the way the older reacted as he tried to make out that question. "No, not really. With Paul? Absolutely not. If anything, it's me that wants to target him nowadays, he just gets on my nerves sometimes."</p><p>Paul inhaled calmly through his nose, averting his eyes back to Brian. "Even though it's hypothetical, saying my name out of all people close to him kind of rubs me the wrong way. Do you suspect me of doing something wrong or something?"</p><p>Brian drew back, placing his hand on chest again as if here offended. "Not me, no way. I barely know you Paul. Although, a little birdy of mine does find you a bit off," Brian raised his hand because John looked like he was going to jump out of his seat just now. "<em>but </em>I personally do not believe you are a huge murderer that killed twenty plus people. There's no reason for me to think that, but since the convo is on the table, and it's just us -"</p><p>"Wait, what are you trying to say? Who's suspecting that Paul comitted a crime?" John asked, eyebrows furrowing and his voice high with disbelief. "Paul wouldn't - he's not -"</p><p>Paul cut him off with a soft, "Hush baby." That caught both Brian's and John's ears as clear as day. John blinked at Paul, his eyes big and cheeks a bit pink. Fuck he couldn't help but to be flustered to the point of arousal, plus Paul's hand is literally caressing his thigh in such a suggestive way while they were discussing whether or not if Paul hypothetically ended someone's life. Paul traced his eyes back to Brian when John nodded for the third time, skimming over his expression before sinking his shoulders and relaxing more into his chair. "Since the convo is on the table, then we should dive into it? Is that what you're trying to say?"</p><p>Brian hummed, a small smirk on his face. "Yeah, somewhat. I was heading into that, but I'm asking because you know, I have to. There isn't really an option where I can't ask you any questions if someone feels a bit uncomfortable."</p><p><em>Ringo</em>. Paul's eyes flashed with a bit of humor, his lips twitching up a bit in a small but amused smile, nodding his head slowly. Brian felt something tickling in his stomach, becoming unnerved  just a little bit from the relaxed expression on Paul's face. "Yes, I understand that." Paul said after a couple of seconds, looking down for a bit as he continued. "I wonder what gives though, meaning if there's some type of vibe that I give out that makes people uncomfortable or suspect me and shit like that."</p><p>John frowned, parting his lips until Brian stopped him from speaking by clasping his hands together. "Ah, I wish I can tell really. I have no actual idea who can feel that way towards you. Now it's up to how you cooperate with the questions I'm going to ask you." He said, sounding too eager to do this for Paul's liking, but he can't let his nerves show or he's done for since Brian seems really observant. Brian leaned in, cracking his knuckles while clearing his throat ready to begin before John could even let those words sink in. "Let's keep it hypothetical when I ask, have you've ever felt some type of urge to put somebody in harm?"</p><p>Paul shrugs his shoulders, tilts his head a bit as he formulated an answer, despite the question being hypothetical, he couldn't seem to just sincerely admit something like that. Especially to an alert Brian Epstein who's obviously trying to get something out of this. "If it's necessary, like if someone close to me is getting hurt by someone else. Then yeah, I can probably do some harm to a person."</p><p>"And how far do you think it'd go? Let's say, for example, John gets hurt by someone and he's really upset about it." John blinked at the use of his name, looking at Brian with questioning eyes. Paul tongued at his cheek, showing some emotion when he ended up narrowing his eyes at Brian, taking something like that as a threat. "You go into a blind rage and launch yourself at whoever did it. You're so angry, and you just begin to beat the person to a pulp until they're unconcious, do you think something like that would happen?"</p><p>"Well, if you put John into the equation then I doubt it would get that far." Paul said, hand rising up John's thigh which made the older jolt a bit in his chair from the sudden movement. "Because I wouldn't let him get into a situation where he's in danger, not him or George."</p><p>John blushed a little at that proclamation, looking over at Paul again with a soft awe type look on his face. Brian chuckled aloud, kind of shocked that George is being brung up in this. It seems as if Paul wanted to make sure he knew how close to his heart John and George are, but who know how long that'll hold out for them. Brian nodded his head, "Well, I can't really counter that. It's understandable, John and George are very nice as far as I know. All of you are friends I bet, very close so using them  as an example is kind of a disadvantage."</p><p>"I mean, if they <em>are</em> put in danger somehow then I'd probably blow up. I don't really think it'd go as far as rendering somebody unconcious though. Who knows really -" Paul blinked, realizing something. "But what does that have to do with me being suspected though? Wouldn't anyone be righteously outraged at the idea of someone they love getting hurt by someone?"</p><p>"Yes, I believe so."</p><p>"Let's say you're a father and you catch somebody harassing your daughter, and hurting them. You'd get very angry, wouldn't you?" Paul asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he just casually dips his hand further into the heat of John's legs.</p><p>John closed his legs tightly around Paul's hand that crept its way in between his legs, sitting up straight with his stomach fluttering. Oh - while Paul and Brian continued to talk, he couldn't seem to follow on with whereever the conversation was going, mostly due to the feeling of Paul basically groping him through his pants. The idea of him doing this to him <em>here</em>, right in front of Brian, while they were discussing something potientially threatening, involving Paul with the upcoming suspicions of his closed off character. John bit down on his bottom lip, stifling an embrassing montage of noises ready to spill out.</p><p>"Yes I would," Brian hummed, before his eyes lit up, an obvious idea riveting through his head just from the look on his face,. "Ah, Paul you've really hit a spot. It all does make sense, but let's switch it up in a way. What if someone decides to hurt you? I believe you carry yourself well, but let's put it in perspective that you end up in a situation that you can't get out of without being bruised up."</p><p>Paul laughed out at that, his skin feeling numb all of a sudden with the knot that tied itself up inside of his stomach. "Gosh um, I don't know," Paul stifled another laugh, looking too casual even though he's put on edge at the moment, the memories fading through his head. "I pray that I won't be in a situation that leads into me being put into danger. When I was little then yeah, I'd probably be arrested for the shit I've done to other kids, but now? I think I grew out of it. I can't imagine myself really doing what I used to nowadays."</p><p>"Oh well, we've all had issues with self control as a kid. I get it. Well, the last few questions that I'd have in mind to ask you would turn this into a whole interrogation. You're not a suspect after all, but like I said, I had to question you so things could be more smooth or something like that. Besides if you were the killer then I'm sure -" Brian glanced at John, making the other man's breath catch in his throat. " - John would tell someone if he feels unsafe, and I'm sure George would too. So, it's nice having a talk with you Paul."</p><p>Paul nodded his head at that, a closed lip smile on his face that didn't exactly reach his eyes due to the thrumming of his heart against his ribcage. John huffed, gathering his voice and putting forward his morals to enter the conversation again. "Hey wait a minute, you can't just end it there. Why don't you tell us who's suspecting Paul of being a murderer because that isn't just something you can sit here and inadvertantly hint to us."</p><p>Brian smiled at him, speaking in a dreamy voice that made Paul eye's narrow slightly, something shifting inside of him. "Sorry love but I have to keep it anonymous. I hope you understand."<br/><br/><br/></p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Chapter 29</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I can't believe - you know what? I can't even begin to explain how I feel right now. What was Brian trying to ask you? Also why did your hand keep touching my dick? I mean it felt nice but you couldn't pick a better timing? And what was all of that flirting stuff?" Paul stared at the older man blankly while he twisted the knob of his front door with his hand, looking as if he was feigning innocence. John glared at him, a small pout on his flustered face. "Don't get all quiet on me now, I'm serious."</p><p>"Did you see the way he was looking at you?" Paul replied with a small smile, nonchalant and detatched from the idea of taking John serious when he looks as cute as he does right now. Pushing his door opened, he walked inside of his house with John tailing behind him with a small scowl on his face. Paul made his way into his living room, throwing his keys onto his couch as John slowly began to take his jacket off and fold it up into his arm. "Calling you 'love' and all of that, he was the one that started the flirting so I just went along with it - but you do look really gorgeous today, if you're wondering." Paul continued, taking a seat on the couch while his eyes lingered on John for a minute longer than he wanted it too, just unashamedly taking the sight of him in.</p><p>"Did you really have to go as far as groping me though? In the middle of you being questioned?"</p><p>Paul made a funny looking face, drawing his bottom lip in to bite down on it to hide a small giggle ready to roll out. As <em>rare</em> and cute as it looked, John only blushed, and rubbed at his own arm since goosebumps rode up his skin at the expression on Paul's face. "You're so weird." </p><p>"I did it because I was jealous, and I just want to make sure your head was still filled with me."</p><p>"Okay but that doesn't answer all of my other questions." John said, walking over towards Paul and sitting down next to him, kind of oblivious to the way Paul was staring at him. "Who do you think suspects you? I mean, there has to be someone that knows you enough to try and call you out." The older explained, before his eyes began to widen in remembrance. "Wait! I think I know who it is! It might be Richard! He's onto you, right? I think he might be the one that hinted to Brian that -"</p><p>"John, he's paranoid. This has been going on for months with him, to be frank, I don't think he has anything better to do but point fingers." Paul said, hooking his arm around John's shoulder and pulling him in close, his heart fluttered when John ended up snuggling against him despite his mind still wondering on about Richard. Paul's hand came up to rest on John's cheek, caressing his skin as he gently turned the man's head to face him. "Don't be upset with him actually baby, it's just going to make you get early wrinkles if you think about it too much." One thing Paul did not want to do is straight up deny the fact that Richard is right, only because he has a few loose ends to tie in the future when it comes to admitting his wrong doings to John, he doesn't want to confuse him by lying.</p><p>So that's just a cracked open window, Paul hoped John gets it soon before it's too late.</p><p>John's breath hitched lightly, his cheeks quickly getting red when Paul's thumb brushed against his cheek. With his eyes fluttering, he looked away and speedily murmured something under his breath. "Oh, okay. Whatever I guess. I'm not upset, I'm just confused because I don't see how someone as - well not sweet - but as calm as you could be capable of doing that."</p><p>Paul laughed, "Not sweet? What does that supposed to mean?"</p><p>John looked at him as if he were insane, and shoving him away playfully. "You're an asshole, if it isn't obvious. Even though you apologized for ditching me, I still want to twist your pretty head off you idiot. I was down bad for <em>weeks</em>." He explained with a small pout on his face, even though his hands were subtly pulling Paul close to him again, smiling a bit when the younger cooperated and let him do so. "But still - I guess you can be sweet when you <em>want</em> to."</p><p>"I'm really sorry for doing that to you." Paul replied, the smile on his face beginning to fade out into the seriousness that had a hold on him ever since he came back. "I didn't mean to hurt you that bad. I hope you know that. I love you, and I want you to be happy."</p><p>John tensed up, shrinking back from that. "Gosh, don't you start with the '<em>I love you</em>' thing again, I kind of liked it better when you denied that the fact that you love me. It makes me not think too much on whether you're just saying this because you want to, or if you really mean it." He blurted out before he could even stop himself, letting his inner thoughts and insecurity filter out as he spoke about that. Paul's stunned eyes darted across his face, a loss of words having him knocked sideways as John stuttered pathetically over his words to try and save himself from the embarrassent. "I didn't mean that - I don't know what I'm saying anymore. I've been thinking too much, and the words come out before I can really read them."</p><p>"It's fine." Paul said, finding his voice after a couple of seconds, moving his arm away from John so that he could give him space. "I won't shame you for feeling that way, but I'll tell you truthfully that I do mean it whenever I say it."</p><p>John looked away from him, sighing as he closed his eyes to gather himself. <em>God why am I even doing this? </em>John is convinced that Paul's right about him not having the right to be ashamed, but still, he wants to pick a feeling towards Paul and stick with it. "I'm just afraid of my feelings being played with again, and I want to move on but sometimes I think about you too much and my heart starts beating too fast. Then my mind keeps racing."</p><p>"That's okay."</p><p>"No it's not!" John snapped, "Stop saying that it's fine, because it's not. I don't like going back and forth with you all of the time. I need to make my mind up on whether or not I hate you." He explained, voice becoming petulant sounding by the end of his outburst. "I don't know what occurs in your head sometimes and it's driving me crazy. You big idiot."</p><p>Paul blinked at that, furrowing his eyebrows as his ears burned, something garlic flavored poisoning his tongue as he asked in a soft voice. "You hate me?"</p><p>John shook his head, finding his words in a matter of seconds. "No, I don't hate you Paul. I'm just talking. But honestly, I don't know my feelings for you at all when I think too much. It may not make sense but how can I know if you mean it or not?"</p><p>"John," Paul began as he went to grabbed the older's hand, lacing their fingers together which caused John to look at their hands for a few seconds, as if he grew extra fingers before looking back up at Paul with questioning eyes. "Can I prove it to you at least? In the best way that I could? Or anyway that I can possible?" Paul gently asked him, giving John's hand a squeeze as he moved close to him again, a determined look on his face that made John's cheeks turn a bit pink.</p><p>"How so?" John asked with a quizzical tone to his voice, his eyes observing the pool of hazel that's sheltered inside of Paul's own eyes. Paul stared at him for a few seconds before he leaned in, capturing John in a sudden kiss that made the older stifle a quiet gasp into it. John blinked his eyes at nothing, one or two times before finally letting them fall closed as Paul winged an arm around his waist to pull him in close, and with that - John didn't know what the hell to do with himself. Paul kissed him with a purpose, nothing remotely feverish and hungry, but it was soft instead, very nurturing as his lips moved against John's.</p><p>Proving himself with a kiss that made John dizzy with sensations that ravished throughout his body, giving him all types of chills? If John wasn't so indecisive then he'd take it.</p><p>Paul pulled away, breathing deeply and not giving John the time to speak before his lips traced their way to his jawline, mapping across the sensitive skin of his neck. John elicited a gasp, massive heat flushing down his body, hot flashes of stimulation warping his mindset as Paul kissed gently at his skin while he holds him. "Paul -" John breathes out in a airy voice, not even recognizing his own sound as his fingers find its way up the younger's hair, continuing to squeeze Paul's hand with his own. Paul's hands roam up his shirt, feeling against John's soft skin, breathing in his scent and falling harder into the pits of love/despair towards the older man.</p><p>John lets Paul embrace him, his heart thrumming against his skin. "Paul." He calls out again, this time with a more steady voice that makes Paul pull away from him, properly meeting John's eyes. "Paul, what are you trying to say?"</p><p>Paul holds him closer, sitting up straight as he gathers up the strength to say what he wants to say, or more so, what he <em>needs</em> to say. "Can I make love to you?" Paul asks, holding up his and John's hands so that they could be in view. "Can I make you mine today and forever?"</p><p>John blushed furiously, literally squeaking at how those words <em>sound </em>coming from someone like Paul. "What are you - do you mean you want to -"</p><p>"Become my boyfriend, please?"</p><p>John's eyes widened, his voice hitching as he literally shook with a rush of exictement and shock at the same time. "Paul! What? I can't just - wait a minute, you have to slow down real quick. That's a really big step, and you didn't even -"</p><p>"How else am I going to prove myself to you? You asked me how I can do it, and this is my way. I want to be with you, officially. Please?" Paul begged, those big eyes causing John to literally glitch in real life, unsure of how to even respond to such a request. 'Become my boyfriend?' You are literally insane, there's no doubt that Paul genuinely meant what he asked, and it flattered John but there's something kind of unsettling about it too. John bit down on his bottom lip, releasing his hold of Paul's hand to grasp at his cheek and tug at it so that he could get some type of pained reaction out of him. "John, I <em>really</em> do love you. It's killing me."</p><p>John swallowed, forcing himself to look away. "Okay I get it, but us actually coming together after all of that is kind of nerve wracking because - I don't know, it just makes me really nervous."</p><p>"Baby, you were all for it before."</p><p>"Yeah, that was <em>before </em>you said that my feelings for you occurred because I haven't been adored by someone in a long time." John sneered, something uncharacteristically dark casting over his eyes as he forced the memory into Paul's mind to make sure the younger understood how much those words sunk into his head. It all played with his thoughts, making him feel like he was going crazy and feeling like this because he's been touch starved for awhile, <em>especially</em> in the middle of a pandemic. It continued to dawn on John, a spell of hurt washing over his features that made Paul immediately regret everything he said in his past. "Why would you <em>say</em> something like that to me?"</p><p>"John, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean -"</p><p>"Yeah, I know you didn't mean it." John huffed, rolling his eyes. "But how am I supposed to know if you're actually telling the truth by not meaning what you said?"</p><p>Paul blinked, his hands moving against John. "I'm not the one that's in the position to give you that answer, but with a full heart, I can tell you that I<em>'m sorry</em> and I mean <em>that</em>. It's up to you to figure whether it's true or not, all I can really let on is that I love you and I mean that from the bottom of my heart."</p><p>"I <em>know</em> you're sorry, but thinking about it still hurts." John retored, a small pout on his face that Paul wanted to kiss off so badly. John had then sighed, looking at him directly with glistening eyes. "I'm glad you're sorry if anything. Didn't I say before that I don't think I'll be able to forgive you though? You're literally an asshole, and I'm not letting you slide with that."</p><p>"I understand your decision." Paul said, nodding his head eagerly at John, staring desperately into his eyes. In his head he's cheering him on, loving the slander towards him, he halfway hoped John would continue to filter out all the bad things Paul has said to him. "I'm a coward John, but I'm in love with you, seriously, and I want to be with you at all times. I want to make you feel good, I want you to be happy too so its up to you on how you want things to be between us." As Paul finished, there's a good and bad that should be dissected, but there was so much going on right now for John to really, deeply pay attention to whatever that meant.</p><p>"Paul," John sighed, "You're such an asshole." He muttered before leaning in to give him a small, kind of shy kiss on the lips. Paul hummed, fighting back the urge to kiss John again once the other man pulled away with a hesitant look in his brown eyes. "Okay, fine. Maybe we can try the boyfriend thing out but if you fuck up and hurt me again, I swear I will end you."</p><p>Before Paul could say anything else,  the look of joy being bright on his face, John spoke up again with a dark blush on his cheeks. "Also, we can do the 'thing' then I want to be the one to touch you this time." Paul's eyes widened in slight horror, looking a bit pale and sort of frightened to the point where John had to immediately elaborate. "<em>Not</em> like be on the top, specifically. God but I want to make you feel nice like how you've made me feel good, not technically the same way but -"</p><p>Paul looked a bit relaxed now that he's been reassured that another Jeremy incident won't occur, John is not Jeremy though but - it's just a bit hard to see himself in a position like that at the moment. "Why don't you just show me?"</p><p>John huffed, looking like a tomato as he scooted to the edge with kind of shaky hands due to nervousness. "Fine, fine. Just sit back and don't talk unless - nevermind just <em>don't</em> talk. I haven't done this in awhile so please don't say anything stupid."</p><p>Paul blinked at him with furrowed eyebrows, a little confused as to what John meant and where he was going with this until the older slowly dropped onto his knees in front of him. John gulped as he gently spread the younger's legs, raising his hands up to Paul's fly, and undoing it slowly while Paul just stared at him with a balnk face. Thank God. No talking meant no facial expressions either, or questioning body language that would make John suddenly crumble in front of him. John let out a shaky exhale, closing his eyes to gather himself as he dips his hand into Paul's underwear, removing his cock out from the slit of his boxers and slowly leaning his head down. Paul's breath hitched, and his stomach lurched since he's halfway unprepared for the moment when the older male wrapped his lips around him.</p><p>No way.</p><p>John relaxed when his tongue flicked against the shaft of Paul's cock, letting his mouth do the work as he took Paul in, wanting to <em>hear</em> the younger and desperately make him feel good now that he's given the chance. This is all he wants to do, hell maybe it's all he'll get to do when it comes to pleasuring Paul, and to be frank he doesn't mind it really. John's fingers are draped around the length that he couldn't fit, a slow movement of his head as he sucked Paul's cock with an intent to make him feel like he's on cloud nine. So far, so good? John hoped that Paul is loving it, he couldn't really tell, and his nerves was getting to him to a point he couldn't even hear the sharp moan that exited Paul's lips. Paul's head fell back against the couch when John hummed around him, whispering out in a breathy voice, "Fuck."</p><p>John tensed up as he tongued Paul's dick, his hearing zeroing in on what he thought was a voice in his head saying fuck, but it didn't seem too familiar for him to match it with his own voice. John pulled off, taking in a deep breath before leaning into swirl his tongue around the beading tip of Paul's cock, while stroking his hand up and down the wet length. This time, actually hearing the catch in Paul's breath as he did so. Oh so he <em>does</em> like this. Paul's hips flex when John takes him back into his mouth, holding himself off on thrusting forward into the older's throat, he grabs at the couch and groans out softly in pleasure.</p><p>John feels so good around him, his mouth, the hums he'd make around his dick, the way he's so delicate in the way of handling Paul's self. Paul takes a bold approach, and brings hand up to nestle his fingers through John's hair, not pulling at it but just to encourage him to keep going. The flutter of John's eyes from the soft touch, and the tightening suction around his cock only made things so much better for the both of them. A weirdly intimate exchanged between the two of them that made John release a breath from his nose, growing more confident as he mouthed at Paul's dick, his lips hugging tightly around his shaft as he bobbed his head gently. Paul tried not to praise him for what he's doing, trying not to say anything at all actually, letting the waves of bliss embrace him and ease him into a silent relaxation.</p><p>John wanted to hear him more, his fingers brushing against the length of Paul's fully hardened cock, finger tips caressing his tip as he ran his tongue along the base. Paul raised his head up again, heat flowing through his blood, another moan slipping through his lips, more breathier than the other ones and it all shot down to John's crotch, awakening something of his own. John fluttered his eyes up, looking into Paul's eyes with a purpose of stating what he <em>meant</em> as he ran his tongue up, flattened against the spine of his dick, hot breath bringing in heat to follow up with the action of him closing his lips around the tip again with a soft moan of his own. Paul's mind went haywire, sexual urges fluctuating each and every time he felt the wet, leathery feeling of John's tongue brushing against him.</p><p>"John," Paul couldn't help himself, not even noticing that he just moaned out the older's name. God he hasn't moaned out someone else's name like <em>this</em> in awhile. Unsure of what he should do, hips twitching as John wettened up his length, saliva running down the corners of his mouth as he swallowed Paul almost down his throat. "John, <em>please</em>."</p><p>God he's begging. John's pants tighten at that, he feels himself through his pants as he shudders in between Paul's legs, his tongue lapping at Paul's cock as he gropes himself desperately, eliciting gentle whines that sent vibrations. Paul panted, slowly losing himself more and more, the feeling of John's mouth around him taking him on a trip, his hand threads through John's hair as he breathes out John's name again. "Please, <em>baby</em> -" Paul went on breathlessly, the sound of his low voice making John more desperate to please himself as well, the older eventually pulled off with his hand jerking Paul's cock fiercely.</p><p>"Paul." John mewled out as he pressed gentle kisses against the tip, his hand pressing down on his hard on making him sitfle a soft whimper. Paul's <em>so</em> close, on the edge while he stares at John, watching closely as he flicks his tongue against his tip, kissing it afterwards while he's visibly wanting to get off himself. As soon as John lets out another desperate noise, that was all it took for Paul to go blind for a couple of seconds, everything going mute despite the soft noise that escapes from deep within his chest as he begins to cum. John gasps out gently when Paul's orgasm violently rocks through him, a soft blush on his cheeks as he stops his movements to watch as the younger unfolds, looking beautiful as he trembles a bit against the couch with a heaving chest, trying to get some oxygen into his body.</p><p>Paul swore he almost passed out just now, right up until a brief heap of embarassment possessed him to suck in a sharp breath. Right, he just came, and John watched him. Having no time to really ponder about it, Paul found his voice halfway. "C'mere." God he didn't even recognize himself at that very second, not even knowing that his voice could get this deep until he saw the surprised reaction of John. Not wanting to disobey, especially since he's extremely heated up right now, John stood up on wobbly legs, already undoing his pants and peeling his shoes off without Paul even having to tell him to do so. Stomping his boxers and pants all the way off his feet with a soft exhale, John took a step forward before sinking himself down with his legs flying over Paul's lap, straddling him without so much of a word said.</p><p>Paul shuddered, missing this so much. John's skin underneath his palms as he ran his hands along his thigh, up to his hips, gripping them gently until John stopped him by roughly grabbing at his hands and digging his nails into his wrist. "Don't be gentle, please? I need you to be harsh with me like you were before you decided to up and leave like a <em>little shit</em>." John demanded with a soft hiss, the request making a switch in Paul go off. Yeah, he's <em>definitely</em> in love with him. Right then and there, he made sure his grip tightened until there would be obvious marks printed onto his skin which made the older wince, teeth clenched, tensing up from the death grip.</p><p>"I thought you didn't like it." Paul mumbled under his breath, leaning forward to nibble and suck at John's neck, like earlier but way more aggressive.</p><p>"I only like you being an asshole to me when we're having sex. It's - <em>ah </em>it's different<em>." </em>John replied with a small scoff in his voice, not prepared for when Paul sent down a painful smack on his ass. John jolted with a cry, his hands flying up from Paul's wrist to grasp at his shoulders instead as the younger smacked his ass again before he could even recover from the first one. Paul moved his hips, brushing his still hardened cock against John's own while he lifted another hand from the older's hips to stick two of his fingers into his mouth, gathering his saliva as he gave John another hard ass smack. </p><p>John fell forward against his torso, basically collapsing onto Paul as he squeaked out in pain, oblivious to Paul wettening up his fingers. Paul's hands should not feel <em>so</em> good when it's smacking against his ass, and he shouldn't be <em>this</em> on edge just from getting spanked, but when another hit came from the younger he couldn't help but to dribble a bit, trembling against Paul's body. "<em>God, </em>Paul, please just -" He couldn't even speak, a soft grunt cutting him off as Paul gave him another smack, this time clutching at his ass and digging his nails into the flesh while his other hand drifted behind John. The older man buried his face into Paul's neck as Paul quietly spread him apart, his dripping fingers easing themselves inside of John with a small burn that rippled through John's body, only lasting for a few seconds until Paul skillfully located the sweet spot. </p><p>John shivered, his hands clutching desperately onto Paul's shirt as he moaned out softly into his neck, eyes fluttering closed as Paul fucked his fingers inside of him. Paul held him close to him, rubbing his backside even though John told him to be rough, resting the back of his head against the couch while he probed his fingers inside of the other male. Maybe this was a bad time to think about what John said to him before he went down on him, how Paul selfishly tried to convince him that his romantic feelings were just a fluke, even though they've talked about why Paul did such things like that, it still felt raw. </p><p>Untreated. </p><p>Paul sighed out in bliss as John muffled his moans by latching his lips onto his neck. Paul's spine tingled, wanting to put his dick inside of John so bad but he doesn't feel like getting up to get lubricant for all of that. On the inside he still felt mushy from the fantastic blowjob John gave him, having him moan out in ways he hasn't done in a long time, and it makes him wonder on whether he'd let the man do more to him in the future. </p><p>If there <em>is</em> one for them. </p><p>Don't think too much about the future is what Paul is telling himself, twisting and angling his wrist in a different way so that John could feel his fingers directly penetrate him. John panted against his skin, eyes still closed, body having tremors shoot through him like missles, from the formation of his lips against Paul's neck, he's saying something. So Paul raises his freehand, cupping John's cheek and pulling his flustered face away from his neck so that he could meet his eyes. "What is it, baby?" </p><p>"I <em>mm</em> - I love you." John whimpered out shyly, looking hazy, but the words were truthful nontheless. Paul ignored the mental note in his head that said 'so it takes John to be fingered for him to say it back' and flashed a smile at the trembling man. </p><p>"I love you too." Paul replied, the passionate exchange making everything official. </p><p>"I'm so close." John breathed out in a small voice after gazing into Paul's eyes, his voice trembling as he brung a hand down from Paul's shoulders to wrap around and tug at his cock, eliciting a high moan once he did so, dropping his face into Paul's neck again as he continued to stroke himself. "Fuck, Paul, <em>faster</em>, please." </p><p>Paul lifted his face up again, pulling John into a heated kiss as he fucked his fingers into him faster, hitting just the right spot. John whimpered into it, yelping into the kiss and breathing heavily as he tried to keep up with the way Paul's tongue brushed against his, the younger swallowing every sound he's making. John squirmed around in his lap, wanting to escape the amount of pleasure coursing through him but wanting more of it at the same time, body thrumming with goodness, thighs tightening around Paul when he jerked upwards with liquids pumping out of him. John pulled away from the kiss to get a desperate breath, releasing soft sounds whilst head fell forward to look at the mess splattered onto his thighs and Paul's clothes. Aftershocks made John shudder delightfully, not being able to make a sentence as Paul just gazed at him with a soft expression on his face. </p><p>"Mm," John hummed out, his voice light while he rocked his hips to properly ride out his orgasm, becoming lightheaded at the way Paul continued to finger him until John had to tug at his arm. Paul removed his fingers after a couple of seconds, right on cue with the way John sunk onto him with light pants of his breath, muscles lax and his mind hazy with content. "Paul, what you said about if I want to be yours today and forever, those are a specific use of words to say regarding a relationship. What do you mean by forever?" </p><p>"I know that -" Paul started, looking down with his cheeks reddened. "That the hold you have on me, it's different from whatever feeling I've ever felt for a person before. I really want to be with you. I want you to be with me, and I've never asked anyone else for that opportunity." </p><p>No one lived along enough to get an opportunity anyways. </p><p>John sighed, closing his eyes. "Stop lying to me. You're telling me I'm the only person you've fallen for? As someone who looks as good as you -"</p><p>"I never allowed myself to get too close to someone, unless it was George. But he's different from you, obviously, it's very different. Yes I guess a lot of people got attached to me, but I don't know I -" Paul paused, flashbacks flooding into his head, leaving him speechless for a couple of seconds until he eventually gathered himself with a parched look on his face. John shifted so that he could sit back on Paul's lap, wanting to meet the man's eyes, grimacing at the positon his knees were in, cursing and flushing in embrassment at the thought of him 'getting old' came to his mind. </p><p>"We can talk about it more in the shower." John uttered, squinting his eyes at Paul, right before breaking out into a small smile. "Are you blushing? Oh, you look so cute."</p><p>Paul's eyes widened, a frown forming on his face as he immediately jumped to his own defense, cheeks getting redder. "We just had sex John, it's kind of a natural thing if you didn't know."</p><p>"Don't be a smart ass." </p><p> </p><p> "Hey! What are you doing here all of a sudden?" George chirped as he smiled bright and wide, eyes lighting up at the sight of his friend walking through his door for the first time since that awkward brunch. Richard cheesed back at him with a shy smile of his own, looking a bit nervous as he entered the home with something being held behind his back. George closed the door as he turned towards him, his eyes following the movement of Richard removing a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. </p><p>"I bought you something - let's call it an apology for being all awkward at the brunch. I'm happy you stayed behind with me while Paul and John left, I thought I was going crazy." Richard said, his voice becoming wavered when George slowly grappled at the flowers and held them close to his chest, a small blush painted on his cheeks.</p><p>George looks down at the bunches of flowers, observing the delicacy with the way he cupped them in his hands. There's a feeling in his chest that he could not quite explain, feeling a bit uneasy to accept an apology that should not be directed towards him. "As much as I appreciate this, I can't really accept the apology. It's not me who you accused of doing <em>that </em>anyways. I think you should apologize to Paul more so." He explained, making Richard trace his gaze to the floor, falling back against the door with a soft exhale of exhaustion leaving through his lips. </p><p>"Apologize to Paul? I haven't really said anything demonizing to him, have I? What's the issue? All I wanted to know was why he keeps treating you unfairly."  </p><p>George tilted his head, staring at Richard as if the older man was crazy. "I don't get it. You don't know Paul like I do, and you don't know our relationship enough to assume that he's this big asshole to me." </p><p>Richard blinked, taking a much needed deep breath as he tried to explain his behavior. "George you were literally ranting to me about how much he's hurt you sometimes. I don't understand what you want me to do, or how you want me to react every time I come in close with him. A man of such mystery gives off so much creeps to me, but it's not like -" </p><p>"Just forget what I said about him, okay?" George asked him in a hushed voice, cutting Richard off as he gripped at the flowers, no longer being gentle with them as his frustrations began to rise. "Paul's obviously changed since he's been gone, he's sorry for what he's done to me and John, that's all that matters. I just want things to be calm between everyone for the next couple of days." </p><p>"How would you know that? George, listen, I just don't want you to get hurt again. I <em>really</em> care about you."</p><p>George hummed, looking elsewhere as Richard confessed to him. "What did you come here for?" </p><p>Covering the hurt that's beginning to blossom within him, Richard cleared his throat and took a step forward, playing with his fingers. "I came here to give you those apology flowers, and I wanted to make sure that you were feeling okay after our last meeting. Plus, I've been wondering if you have John's phone number."</p><p>"Oh, thanks, they're beautiful by the way. Like I said, I appreciate it." George started in a slightly hesitant voice, reaching into his backpocket to grasp at his phone, opening it up and surfing through his contacts to find John's number. "Yes, I'll go and get it for you by the way."</p><p>"Since he's a friend of yours, I want to be a friend of his too you know? Plus, he seems like a nice guy and all." Richard said, clearing his throat afterwards and ducking his head when George sent him a subtle look of suspicion. That's kind of - well there's nothing he can say about that really, but George finds it out nowhere for Richard to suddenly decide on being friends with John. Hopefully he's not going to do anything wreckless and try to hint something to John with the use of his sharp feelings towards Paul's questioned innocence. </p><p>"I found it. Don't go bugging him with your thoughts about Paul though, I believe they really feel something for each other. So don't go off the rails, please? And not just with John but in general." </p><p>Richard sighed aloud, pulling out his own phone with a small frown on his face, not even wanting to acknowledge what George said but his brain found a way to sit on it anyways. "I'm not going to bug him about Paul, I genuinely just want to get to know him." </p><p>It'd come out better if he was telling the truth, but shit, who knows his plan here? Richard just wants to protect John, just as much as he wants to protect George. It's only up to his hope that the auburn haired man hasn't flown too far close to the sun, or to hell if Richard wants to be technical. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Chapter 30</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You just left the ward, and the first thing you do is get into a fight? I told you I was fine, it was just a small scuffle that I got into. Now you probably bought a one way ticket to the ward again with all of those people, can't you believe yourself?" </p><p>Paul winced, immediately shying away from his brother's touch when Michael tended to the cut bloody smeared across his right cheek, eyeing the first aid kit that sat beside his younger brother. The two of them were on their aunt's porch, only four days after Paul came home from the psych ward, still under supervision at one point but unfortunately the boy slipped from their hands. Even though his erratically aggressive behavior has lessened a bit, the relatives were still at their limit when it comes to him. </p><p>"Obviously I don't care. They can send me back there if they want. It'll just be a waste of <em>their</em> time." Paul mumbled lowly in response, feeling annoyed as he turned his face away from Michael to look elsewhere. </p><p>"Well I don't want you to go back, not over something stupid." Michael said, a frown on his face as he went to go dab at the cut on Paul's cheek again, grasping at his chin to direct Paul's face back towards him.</p><p> Processing his words in a suspenseful lingering silence, Paul calmly averted his eyes back to Michael and observed his face with a slowly darkening look in his expression. Michael blinked at him in embarrassing surprise when Paul didn't pull away from him this time, pressing the cloth against the cut gently, beginning to look down at the first aid kit to search for a band aid to splay out onto Paul's cheek so that he could tend to the older's slightly bloodied hand next. </p><p>"You look like mom." Paul had suddenly uttered before he could even think to stop himself. The statement completely caught Michael off guard, and the other boy paused his movements for a short second to register whatever that meant. That's out of nowhere. </p><p>Michael swallowed, humming gently and resuming to search for a band aid. Paul watched him with bitterness coating his eyes, mind swelling with begrudging thoughts while his vision became unfocused with hot, teary wetness. While he began muddling the heel of his shoe down into the bottom and last step of the porch, listening in on the way the step creaked in response to the weight bearing down, Paul grumbled: "And you're acting like her too. You look like mom and sound like our father." Michael looked up with a look of canvass, and Paul quickly turned his eyes away from the boy, his expression glacial, very icy. </p><p>"We both look like our parents." Michael murmured blandly under his breath, glaring down again, placing the bandaid on the cloth. Paul tensed up from that as his brother reached down at the first aid kit to grab the miniature scissors, wanting to cut the strands of cloth that stuck out too much, it could have been a potential irritation hazard if it irritated the older's skin too much. "We're their kids after all, right?" Michael queried sarcastically, cutting the cloth carefully so that he wouldn't injure his brother, grasping at the strands that came flowing down after each snip. </p><p>Paul shifted quickly, raising his injured hand up to snatch the scissors out of Michael's hand since the boy was done with the cutting and blatantly distracted with something. It only took a quick second for the sudden wrenching feeling of an object fastly leaving his hand to steal Michael's attention, causing him to look up at Paul as the older stood up with the scissors in his hand. "Hey! You can't just -"</p><p>"What? I haven't been around actual, <em>sharp</em> scissors for weeks. Do you think I'm just going to go feral at the mere feeling of them in my hands?" Paul questioned, a mocking tone sheltered in his voice as he side eyed a slightly unnerved Michael while nonchalantly twirling the scissors around one finger. "Oh the feeling of scissors, God I can just fucking cum from this. Is that what you expected?”</p><p>Michael gritted his teeth, recoiling in disgust as he narrowed his eyes at Paul. "<em>Stop</em> it." </p><p>"I'd never thought you'd end up like one of them Michael, but I'm not surprised. You're still young and you can get manipulated pretty easily, so I shouldn't be surprised, right?" Paul sneered at him, his voice condescending and cold. Michael stared at him with widened eyes, watching as he stepped down from the step, slowly strolling over to the front lawn. Michael noticed his other hand subconsciously falling into his pocket. the action being some kind of comfort thing,  for some reason he's sure of that.</p><p>"Shut up! I've <em>always</em> been on your side Paul!" Michael lashed out, a spell of hurt washing over him as he followed his brother down the porch, walking out into the front lawn behind Paul. "You've just never gave me a break to actually prove that I am with you. You just want to hate me, hurt me, and I know it. Everyone does. But you <em>can't</em> hate me Paul, I'm not like our parents, it doesn't matter how much you try to convince yourself that I am, I'll <em>never</em> doubt you like they did by the end." </p><p>Paul stopped walking with accumulating silence on his end, standing near the pavement now, scissors still twirling around his finger. Michael felt himself  rush to his side, wanting to get a clean look at his brother's face so that he could find some sort of positive connection there, needing to make sure Paul understood what he meant. "I don't think you're crazy Paul, or insane, or anything like that. I look up to you know, and I just want to help you in all ways possible. The things you do frighten me, it's not something that a person would normally do but it does <em>not</em> dehumanize you."</p><p>"Cut the shit." </p><p>Michael stifled a gasp, "What?"</p><p>Turning his head towards the boy, Paul glared at him, disbelief present in his eyes. "What is normal anyway Michael? Nothing in this world is considered as <em>normal</em>, the representation of normal is social construct anyways. I can care less about whoever deems the shit I do as normal or not, because in another world, it can be accepted." Michael's breath hitched in a small fraction of fear when Paul turned to him, looking inhospitable as he neared his little brother which simultaneously led to Michael taking a few steps back, the twirling of the scissors coming to an abrupt stop. "You think you can persuade yourself into understanding, hearing me out, but the thing is - you can't Michael. You're too scared, just like everyone else is."</p><p>"Paul, I-" Michael tried to speak, his throat closing up all of a sudden as Paul continued to back him up, the way he's holding the scissors seemed too threatening for a simple brother-to-brother sibling tease. </p><p>"And I can hate you Michael. I can hate you as much as I want, and there's nothing you can do about it because my hate for you won't stop. Such a golden boy you are Michael, I can envy you too you know."</p><p>"Stop it!" Michael shouted again, his eyes wet with tears as he stared into the lifeless eyes of his brother. "You don't mean that! Just shut up!" </p><p>"Don't mean what?" Paul asked as he blinked his eyes for the first time in a minute, tilting his head at the boy curiously. "What have I said that I don't mean? Do you want me to prove it to you? Prove that I hate you?"</p><p>"You don't." The eleven year old croaked out with a trembling voice, his heart breaking with every passing second. "I'm always here for you. If you hate me then you wouldn't of gotten into that fight to help me, and all of those other times." Paul's eyes widened slightly in remembrance, but in a millisecond the expression was back like it never left. Michael continued, "You would not have done all of those things you did for me back then, taken care of me when I was ill, and make sure I did all of my home work. Fucking - kill Timothy's cat." </p><p>"An act. Of course you wouldn't see right through that, like I said you're too young. You can use the fight thing all you want, but at any other time -" Paul smacked the scissors against Michael's chest, leaning in with a low voice as he muttered. "I'd trade your <em>entire</em> life for a <em>penny</em>. That's how worthless you are to me, a waste of breath in my presence. I wish you and Jim were the <em>only</em> dead ones in that car crash." </p><p>Everything seemed like a blur after that. A few steps away, aunt Joan whisked her front door opened to spot out wherever the screaming was coming from, only for her eyes to land on the way Michael literally threw himself onto his brother with an angered squawk. Immediately she went to go and call for help while her two nephews were wrestling on her lawn, the sounds of her calls towards Jean awakening the neighbors from a few doors down from her home. Michael grasped at the pair of scissors with violently shaking hands, rising it up above his head before having it descend towards what was aimed to be Paul's neck. Before a fatal impact could be made, the teen grabbed harshly at Michael's wrist, expression unmoved as he stared up at Michael with a emotionless gaze in his eyes.</p><p>Michael panted as he sat up onto his knees on top of Paul, mad and screaming out obscenities in the midst of his rage. Grunting, he tried again to force the scissors into the other boy's neck, the only thing stopping him being the grip of Paul's hand wrapped firmly around his trembling wrist. Michael sobbed out in frustration and raw hurt, continuing to struggle against Paul's strength, the scissors being held tight in his grip. "I'll fucking <em>kill</em> you." Michael lashed out with gritted teeth, rage briddling inside of him, his eyes glazed with a genuine determined look to reach his goal. </p><p>Michael shoved the scissors down again with as much strength he could gather, but Paul wasn't letting up at the moment, being obviously stronger than Michael perceived. God Paul could just throw him off if he wanted to, the amount of strength the older had over him was a bit unsettling when Michael would actually sit and think about it. Paul could easily pull a turn of the tables and have Michael pinned down with the scissors aimed at his neck instead, hell he said he hates him and he wishes that he died anyways. So what was stopping him from doing it?  Michael adjusted his position, putting more weight on his wrist to try and get Paul's hand to give way just a bit, teeth still clenched together as he let out strangled noises of struggle. </p><p>Paul's eyes widened slightly, breath hitching lightly. </p><p>Michael glared into his brother's eyes, the look in Paul's eyes very contrary to his. Paul stared up blankly at him in some type of amused disbelief as to how serious Michael seemed. A final look laced through the older's expression, obviously being taken back by something that Michael couldn't recognize due to his own mind being possessed with unyielding anger. It was only when  Paul finally loosened his grip on Michael's wrist, forcing himself to relax and submit - Michael realized that Paul's face began to redden as if he were about to cry. </p><p>Paul gathered his breath when he let the predicament set in, his lifeless eyes narrowing into a envious glare as he cautiously guided Michael's hand towards his jugular, pressing the opened scissors against his skin. "Do it then, snip snip Mikey." He demanded lowly, making the younger boy's eyes blow a wide a bit, a sudden jolt of hesitation and rethinking stifling him up a little. "You've gotten this far, and everyone wants me dead anyways. See? Look." Paul grumbled, motioning his head over towards Jean who stood still by the porch right next to a stunned Joan, his right hand clenched in fist that seemed like encouragement to Paul and his eyes wide with expectancy.</p><p>Michael scowled at Paul before he glanced back at them with a questioning look, his heart dropping immediately once he saw the sick glint of hopefulness in Jean's eyes. Joan had a glint of it too. Fuck. Paul was - he's right? </p><p>Jesus fucking Christ.</p><p>"If they didn't want me dead then they would have ran over here already and pulled you off of me, right?" </p><p>Michael slowly looked back at his brother his face pale with shock from what he'd seen, a soft gasp leaving his lips when he seen hot tears running down Paul's eyes, staining his cheeks and making his face flustered. "So fucking do it already. I made it easier for you anyways, haven't I? Broken you down to a point where you threaten to do it, you're halfway there. So <em>don't</em> hesitate to finish me off now." Paul sputtered out through his hot tears, holding Michael's hand tight in his grasp, gulping down and closing his eyes as he pushed the scissors more against his neck. </p><p>"No." Michael whispered shakily at first, more so talking to his own conscience than to Paul, wanting to will himself into content the best he could. Paul tugged  weakly at his hand, desperation evident in the way he sniffled, and parted his eyes open just a bit to see what expression Michael had on his face as he said this. Michael spoke more boldy now, snatching the scissors away, throwing it elsewhere as he began to stand up onto his feet still hovering over his older brother with a terrified look in his eyes despite his stance. "I'm not going to give you, or <em>anyone else</em> the satisfaction of me hurting you because you want it. Especially after what you just said to me."</p><p>Paul's arms laid limp besides himself when Michael took a step towards him, inhaling through nose as he fluttered his teary eyes back open. "Coward."</p><p>Michael stared down at him, not even hearing the sounds of footsteps rushing over towards them. Paul quietly sat up after a couple of seconds of hearing the adults question Michael, he stared at them with one eye while he rubbed the back of his hand against his other one. Joan's hands were on Michael's shoulders, jerking him back and forth with some type of performative whammy that made Paul's inner anger flare up once again. "What were you thinking? Why are you playing with scissors like that, you could have hurt your brother! Michael, I didn't expect that from you! What has gotten into you?"</p><p>Jean stood next to Paul, watching the two of them, silent and ghostly pale. </p><p>"I- well we were - I was just -" Michael stuttered over himself, not really sure over what to say since everything seemed to be bursted wide opened. Joan searched his eyes with her own look of understanding, loosening her grip on the boy's shoulders while Michael continued to try and find his words. "We were playing and things just went too far, we both just started saying hurtful things to each other then I snapped, I guess. Everything is fine now." </p><p>"Jesus. You guys have to be more careful, and more nicer to each other, okay? Playing with scissors is very dangerous. Don't you <em>ever</em> do that again." </p><p> Paul got up from the ground, palming at his neck and remembering the feeling of the scissors pressed against it. It didn't take long for his actions to capture Jean's attention, making the other man look at him as if Paul had three heads resting on his shoulder. "Hey, what even happened? What were you two doing?  What the hell happened to your cheek?" Jean asked him with a hollow voice, basically interrogating the boy who'd still been rubbing at his eyes to get the moisture out but the tears just kept coming, a total waterfall streaming down his cheeks.</p><p>Paul sniffed, his voice low as he looked over at his cousin. "Like he said Jean, we were playing and things went too far." </p><p> </p><p>"Now I'm getting into my own battles..thanks Paul." Michael scoffed to himself, turning the faucet off and going to grasp at his towel. The scent of shaving cream barreling into his nose, eyes coming to a close as he dabbed the towel at his face. After recovering from the accident that left him in the hospital, he chose to check into a nearby hotel to prevent any future dangerous occurrences that could doom him, to be frank it really isn't that bad. </p><p>As he stared into the mirror, eyes trying to gain focus on himself, he questioned his  own thoughts. "Why are you thinking about the past now anyways? What's the reason for that?" </p><p>Yes he gets sucked into his thoughts, but it's not as vivid as that flashback sequence he just rode through. By the way his phone is trembling in his pocket, it has to be some type of signal that something is trying to reach out to him. In the end it leads to Michael walking out of the bathroom with a gentle sigh, the towel hooked over his shoulder now as he pulls his phone out of the backpocket of his trousers to check the notifications disturbing the silence.</p><p>As he opened it up, he was surprised to see that it was Paul texting him first. A rare sight that caught Michael off guard, only because he's always the first one to send a message to his older brother whenever he becomes corrupted with worry for him. The message wasn't long or heartfelt, despite it being the first time he's gotten a text from him in actual months. Instead of being happy about the interaction, Michael felt immensely uncomfortable. "Paul.. what's going on?" He murmured to himself, his colorful eyes skimming over the message with an unnerved feeling. </p><p><em>michael, it's been awhile</em>. <em>are you busy today?</em></p><p>Just a simple message like that makes Michael's insides squirm with unease. What made it worse is that it wasn't sent too long ago, and he had his read receipts on so there's no getting out of this if he chooses to ignore it. Michael drew bottom lip, and glanced up from his phone to regather himself before raising his other hand to jot down a couple of words in response. Mostly leaning towards a 'yes' but that would be a lie. Michael should not be uneasy talking to his brother, it's not natural, however if you knew their case you'd understand somewhat. </p><p>It's still kind of a joy knowing that Paul's still alive, safe and capable of reaching out to him. Michael just has a lingering question of why? The sudden move being out of nowhere and very random for someone as introverted or closed in like his brother to do. </p><p>
  <em>Yeah it has, and I'm not really busy. </em>
</p><p>Michael swallowed, slowly becoming unsure if he should have said that without a follow up question. Paul's typing back quickly so there's no purpose in trying to jot up a question, he wonders where Paul is and who he's with at the moment. It's not like Paul to be on his phone, up early and texting people on his own will. Hell he might have been on some happy drug or something, suddenly in a mood to reach out to people he hasn't reached out to in a long time. </p><p><em>oh, okay.. do you mind if i come over? i want to talk to you</em>.</p><p>Paul - he wants to - <em>talk</em>? Michael breathes in sharply through his nose, his chest puffing out and his cheeks flushing as a huge question mark dawns on top of his head. A heart to heart? Brother to brother conversation? Paul wants to talk to him? Unbelievable, this is a trap, it has to be some type of trap. Things that come down like this in a landslide is so unrealistic, and Michael needs to get a hold of it before he awkwardly lets it slip through his fingers, pulling the two of them back into some type of awkward stance. Michael is still beside himself nonetheless. </p><p><em>When</em>?</p><p>Paul sends the message back as if he already typed it down before Michael could even formulate a response. </p><p>
  <em>when you hear me knock at your hotel door.</em>
</p><p>Michael blinked, his lips parting into a shocked 'O' shape. A ripple of chills racked through him when it sunk in that he hadn't even let Paul know where he is right now. How does he know that he's at a hotel? Unless Paul is - <em>watching</em> him? </p><p>No, that's just bananas. </p><p>Within Paul's house, the older brother shut his phone off after sending the last text, setting it down next to him and continued to button his shirt up. Purposely, he made the text creepy. Paul thought it would get a laugh out of himself but that wasn't exactly the case since he realized that George told him to act surprise about Michael's whereabouts.</p><p> Eh, he'd be alright. </p><p>A soft sigh coming from behind him made Paul pause his ministrations, twisting around to look at the angel buried in the midst of contentment in his sheets, his auburn hair splayed against the pillow as his lashes brushed against his cheeks, obviously pondering in a deep dream. John wore on Paul's shirt, at first wearing it to tease the younger until he fell tired as soon as the two of them exited the warmth of the shower together.  Paul remembers brushing his palm against the crown of John's head as he slept, his eyes absorbing John's features as the older slept soundlessly with gentle breaths escaping his parted lips. There was a small furrow of Paul's eyebrows that created a halfway frown on his face, his teeth being slightly clenched together without him truly knowing. </p><p>Ah, John. Look at him, he's an angel. </p><p> A small tug occured in his heart as John moved his head so that he chased the warmth of Paul's hand in his sleep, sighing again in pleasement.</p><p>Paul's staring at John now as another sound escapes him when Paul traced his fingers along his cheek and jawline, his hazel eyes observing the way his boyfriend stirred in the sheets, arms stretching out from underneath the covers as if he were a cat. Oh yeah, a cat. Paul's swiftly reminded of Mittens, noting the similarities between the cat and her owner, very similar to each other. John must want to see his cats again, and it's not really up to Paul to let that happen because it'd be inevitable anyway. </p><p>"Why're you staring at me?" John murmured tiredly, squinting his half opened eyes at Paul with a briefly innocent look in his face, trying to properly focus his vision through the heaviness of his eyelids. Paul huffs up a soft laugh, a small smile on his face as he moves himself back to the front of the bed, his backside pressing against the pillow. John manages to sit up on his elbow, facing Paul as his other arm was already working so that his hand could rub at his eye. "Why are you getting dressed? Where are you going?" </p><p>"No good morning?"</p><p>John pouted his lips, hand dropping down from his eye. "Good morning. Now answer me." </p><p>"I'm going to see my brother. I'll be back soon, so you don't have to fret much." Paul said in a low voice, watching closely as John cutely shifted towards him, the older hooking his leg over Paul's and plopping his head against the other's collarbone. "I tell you that I'm going to see my brother and you continue to crawl on top of me like a koala bear." </p><p>"Because, you're so freaking warm." John hummed gently, inhaling the cleansing scent of Paul, his mind going hazy with a bunch of naive fluff. Paul's hands roamed up and down John's backside, inhaling a gentle breath of pleasement as John slowly began to heat up underneath his touch, immediately noticing how intimate the atmosphere is. "I should tell Cyn and Stuart you're back - that we're together - but they're probably going to be mad at you because of how you treated me back then, I run my mouth to them a lot so." </p><p>Paul ran his fingers through John's hair, still staring at him. "They're your close friends, it's fine to tell them things." He suddenly thought about George, pausing in the middle of his statement and searching his own busied head with the next words he'd say, right up until John began to speak.</p><p>"Says you. You never tell anybody anything. What you told me the other day is probably the first time you ever opened up to somebody in recent history." </p><p>Paul huffed out a soft laugh, disbelief evident in his voice. "In recent history? Am I really <em>that</em> closed off?" He asked with raised eyebrows, eyeing the way John sat up to get a better look at him, basically straddling his lap at this point. </p><p>"Well," John began as he perched his arms onto Paul's shoulders, moving in closer to him so their chests were almost pressed together. "You are actually. It pisses me off but at this point there's probably nothing that I can do about it. Also you've been very emotional lately, more than you have been before and it's very attractive. It lets me know that you're an actual person and not some deranged robot." </p><p>"How is me being emotional attractive? Are you saying that you like seeing me sad?" Paul questioned in a playfully accusing voice, squinting his eyes at John while the other began to giggle lightly at the question. John moved his hand towards a strand of Paul's hair, moving it out the way with a cheeky smile before he leaned in to give him a small kiss on the lips, casually smooching the frown off of Paul's face. It significantly caught Paul off guard since he assumed he'd have to bargain his boyfriend for a kiss, wondering earlier on whether or not if John would actually be in the mood for it. </p><p>John pulled away, and smiled a smile that brightened up the whole room. "No, I don't like seeing you sad. There's other emotions aside from sadness that can fit in with the word emotional, even simple expressions or reactions." John explained, smiling even more as he observed Paul's surprised expression. "For example, the way you're blushing right now." John giggled out, his heart thrumming against his chest. Paul didn't say anything back to that immediately, he just sat there with this look on his face that made John tilt his head to the side curiously. </p><p>Before John could ask what was wrong, Paul spoke up again. "Love is an emotion, right?" He asked with a soft voice, his hands making their way up to John's waist. A bit taken back from the sudden question, John gently nodded his head, growing quiet with peering eyes. Paul's eyes skimmed lovingly over his boyfriend's face, making John's insides go soft and his heart thrum even faster in his chest. "I love you." </p><p>"Cheesy." John murmured softly in response even though he was feeling all types of mushy and gushy, immediately looking away from Paul before he could end up crumbling with a flustered look on his face. </p><p>"Now <em>you're</em> blushing." Paul pointed out, a small smirk forming on his face as he went to go and cup his cheek, turning the older's face towards him. Before John could get a remark out, Paul was already beginning to shift the older off of his lap. "I'd love to stay here with you, talk about emotions, or anything else with you but I really have to go and pay my little brother a visit. I'm going to come back soon, alright?"</p><p>"Come back soon." John repeated under his breath, flopping back down onto his ass, pulling the covers up and over him as Paul scooted to the end of the bed again. Resisting the urge to say something petty towards that promise, John leaned back against the pillow and stretched his arms over his head, arching his back as he yawned. Paul paused his movements and looked over his shoulder towards the other man, watching as John's body twisted elegantly underneath the covers, making certain sounds that made the insides of the younger man tingle all over himself. John's breath hitched, limbs twitching as he stretched them out. "Yeah, okay, come back soon."</p><p>"What do you mean by <em>yeah, okay</em> huh?" Paul asked, his eyebrows furrowing, suddenly he couldn't move because he's too enhanced with the way John's stretching. "What are you trying to say?" </p><p>"Nothing!" John whined out, a soft laugh in his voice. "Didn't you say you have to leave?"</p><p> </p><p>There was a knock, as promise on Michael's hotel door. It was the type of knock where it could be mistaken as a maid or hotel security, but Michael knew it was Paul because of the lingering silence that followed up with the last knock to the door. The nineteen year old made his way over towards the door, his heart in his throat and his nerves a bit tinkered when he wrapped his hand around the door knob, the other unlocking the door. There shouldn't be a reason why he was so nervous to see Paul again. Maybe because the man was MIA over the last few weeks? Or maybe because of the vivid flashback he had when he was giving himself a shave. That flashback always made him a bit jumpy, even to himself.  </p><p>Pulling the door opened, and taking a step to the side, Michael looked down to the floor as Paul immediately glanced up from his phone at the sight of the door opening. Before there could be any proper greeting, the younger was already meddling in the exhaustion that came from his own voice. "Come on, come in already." Michael muttered out, sighing softly as Paul made his way inside of his hotel room. Eventually Michael looked up from the floor while Paul's eyes roamed quizzically around the small room, a bunch of questions plopping into his head as to why Michael checked into a hotel. Paul had then looked at the two made beds, and then he glanced at the clothes scattered on the floor, not noticing Michael passing by him to gather all of the clothes up into his arms with some type of hurry. </p><p>Looking away, Paul slid his hands into his pockets and trekked over to the chair by the phone desk in the right corner of the room. Dragging the chair from underneath the desk with his foot tugging at the chair leg, he turned around and took a seat with his eyes following Michael's hurried movements for a few seconds. As soon as the younger became tied up with stuffing his clothes in the small closet, Paul glanced over at the phone chord, letting his eyes follow the chord that lead up to the wall just a few inches higher than the lamp set aside him. "Michael." Paul calls out all of a sudden, capturing his brother's attention, removing his hand from his pocket to unplug the cord as he spoke. "What made you check into a hotel?"</p><p>Michael was quiet for a little bit, eyebrows furrowed as if he hadn't been expecting this question. Paul just sat there and stared at him with a genuinely curious look on his face. "People are after me because of a gamble I made and I think it's safe to just stay here for a little bit." Michael confessed to him, the words not familiar on his tongue when he explained it to Paul instead of someone else. It's as if Paul could read right through him with those sharp eyes he has. Besides, they're brother's who were once close anyways, so Michael shouldn't be too surprised. </p><p>"Oh, right. That's one of the reasons why you were in the hospital right?" Paul asked, bring a finger up to his chin, tapping lightly in thought as his voice softened, pondering on about the excuse right in front of his brother. "I never knew you were one to be a gambler Michael, that's something that surprises me."</p><p>Michael felt his eye twitch in growing irritation and nerves, leaning down to flatten the sheets of his bed with his palm before taking a seat on it. "I'm not a gambler, it was just something that happened and I was in a place at the bad time, but you wouldn't know because you spent like two or three minute sin the hospital with me anyways. Don't come here and patronize me." Michael spat out in annoyance, something riveting inside of his body when Paul just looked straight at him with spectating eyes. "Where have you been? Like seriously, what is - what happened to you?" </p><p>"If I explain it again, I'll sound like a broken record." Paul answered lowly, looking a bit downcast despite his foot tapping enthusiastically against the carpeted floor. "I'm sorry for offending you just now, that was unnecessary."</p><p>Michael blinked at the rarely given apology, his arms slowly crossing over his chest as he immediately looked down at his lap. "Yeah, it's whatever. I don't really care."  </p><p>"I was in Southampton. I left because I hurt George and - a partner of mine. It was mostly because I began to feel things that I did not recognize towards that partner, his name is John." Paul explained, removing his finger from his chin and just placing it on his lap as he sat back against the chair with a small exhale. Michael looked at him with an arched eyebrow, confused where his brother was going with this and becoming very concerned from his wording as well. "Me and John are in love with each other I mean, he's my boyfriend now by the way. But back then I was extremely mean to him, it made me feel guilty. I wanted to do a lot of evil things to him."</p><p>"So you realized that you're a sociopath and you left to Southampton?" Michael asked, not meaning too sound to harsh, but it came out like it did anyways. "I'm happy that you found a boyfriend Paul but - I'm even more happier that you figured yourself out without the need of someone diagnosing you with it. However you shouldn't be so comfortable with self diagnosing something as complex as being a sociopath." </p><p>Paul shivered, genuinely caught off guard with that. He hadn't expected that to come from someone as - well he didn't expect that to come from Michael, someone who is always cautious of his words around him. "I didn't diagnose myself with that. The thought of me being a sociopath didn't even - where did you get <em>that</em> from?" </p><p>"It fits you." Michael replied, suddenly looking nervous. <em>Why was the phone cord unplugged</em>? "You have the characteristics of a sociopath, but being a sociopath isn't that bad if you're getting treatment for it." </p><p>Paul was quiet for a few seconds, letting the words register in his brain, spine tingling with chills as he stared forward at his younger brother. A sociopath? For a split second, he looked very hurt, deeply wounded, and Michael noticed the expression with his own spell of sorrow.  Before Michael could even convince himself to apologize by some type of guilt trip, he went completely rigid when the corners of Paul's lips began to twitch upwards, his head dropping down as he began to laugh quietly. Michael watched with a feeling short of terror as Paul's shoulders trembled in sync of his growing laughter, this was the hardest Michael has ever seen his older brother laugh at something that wasn't even remotely <em>funny</em>. It was full, and lively, it would sound beautiful since it's a rare occurrence, but the stakes on what Paul was losing it at is what made Michael feel unsettled. </p><p>Paul continued to laugh until his stomach tinged in discomfort, his eyes growing teary. Michael tensed up when Paul lifted his head up again and wiped at his eyes with the back of his free hand, "Sociopath? I never would have thought you'd think of me in that way. It's kind of funny, and it caught me off guard at first but you know it might be true." He began, still chuckling through his word despite being serious. Michael hummed at that with a small frown on his face, shifting uneasily against the bed since he couldn't tell whether or not Paul was mad at him. </p><p>"What's so funny about it?" Michael questioned, unable to stop himself from slipping the query out of his mouth.</p><p>Paul sighed, and removed his other hand from his pocket so that he could cross his brace his hands together. It kind of surprised Michael that there wasn't a concealed weapon that the man was holding onto throughout the conversation. After all he knows that Paul is slick like that, he always had been, just pulling something out from his sleeve out-to stun someone half to death so casually - maybe - </p><p>Wait, it's a closed fist. So what -</p><p>Intaking a deep breath, Michael squinted at his brother's fist, and Paul responded once he noticed. "What's funny about it is that the label 'sociopath' doesn't even make it to the horizon about how fucked up I really am." </p><p><em>Huh</em>. "What? What do you mean by that?" Michael asked, looking back up at Paul's eyes.</p><p>"Use the label everyone else is using Michael. Don't play dumb."</p><p>"W-What label?"</p><p>Paul glared at him, his voice lowered as he answered the question. "Serial killer." </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Chapter 31</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: VERY gruesome first half.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Michael was on the ground, trying to capture his breath with no help from his own sock in his mouth, vision almost <em>completely</em> gone. Paul stared at him before he leant down and grabbed at the back of his shirt, dragging him across the ground again since Michael grew too exhausted to continue struggling against his older brother. Michael shivered once he realized that he was being moved for the fifth time, blinking his one useful eye opened again, he could hear waves splashing. Gosh, he didn't even remember anything aside from being maced right after Paul let the words 'serial killer' roll off of his tongue. Paul had beat the shit out of him afterwards, stomping his face in, bruising his cheek with his punches, but it didn't feel like just one person going at him - Michael thought it was at least several people just jumping him at once. Blood soaked his sock as Michael coughed out pathetically, his chest clenching and bruised ribs aching in complaint, Michael whimpered out as Paul dropped him down onto the ground again. </p><p>"Sorry about that." Paul said nonchalantly, opening the doubled doors to a stolen white van. "Didn't mean to beat you like that. At least I didn't stab you to death, how bout that?" </p><p>Michael made a croaking sound, muffled by the sock, blood dribbling down the corners of his mouth. </p><p>"John told me something Michael." Paul continued as if making a conversation was the most appropriate thing right now, he turned to his little brother and grasped at his shirt to lift him up off of the ground again, planting him down into the van. Michael groaned out in agony, twisted his upper body around and shivered again as nausea began to rise in the midst of excruciating pain that briddled throughout his body. Paul lifted his lower half into the van, folding Michael's legs up towards his aching chest so that his form could resemble a fetal position until the nineteen year old tensed and immediately straightened his form to avoid putting more pressure on his internal wounds. </p><p>Michael twitched, losing vision in his good eye, hanging on a strand of full consciousness. </p><p>"I shouldn't say anything bad on your name because something tragic may happen to you, and I might regret it in the future." Paul told the man as he stepped back and closed the doubled doors, he stood there remembering when John told him that after Paul got into an argument with George for a few seconds before making his way to the drivers side. Michael was in the back, twitching and in humongous pain that made him release sounds of agony that he couldn't even hear himself make. </p><p>Michael shuddered when Paul started the car,  engine rumbling, making Michael's blood run cold with fear as Paul eventually continued. "He's right. I will regret this, but there's nothing I could do about it." </p><p>God what is he going to do? Michael tried to swallow, but his nausea wouldn't let him. </p><p>Before Michael knew it he was being thrown into the front seat. More alert than he'd been within the past fifteen minutes, Michael breathed heavily and fast through his nose, wondering why the hell both of his legs were just chilling outside of the vehicle until he heard footsteps and a 'shing' sound that went straight to his eardrum. Michael twisted, inhaling his soul to catapult the sock out of his mouth with a violent exhale - it worked. Thank fuck, he can properly breathe now and possibly call for help if his voice wasn't as fucked as it seemed in his mind. Ready to put his hands in use, Michael grasped at the car door exterior and shifted himself forward with an intent to get the fuck out of wherever he was at the moment.</p><p> Paul returned much to Michael's fortune, but instead of the menacing aura that would usually exude from him, Michael noticed that his face was flushed, hazel colored eyes looking at Michael in confusion. "Are you about to run?" Paul asked, sounding broken. "I'd let you, but I can't at the same time. You wouldn't understand." </p><p>"You're going to kill me." Michael stated in a shaky voice, forcing himself to stay calm, keeping his eyes away from the large blade in Paul's hold. "Just like you killed all of those other people I bet. You'd do it to your own brother, would you?"</p><p>Paul's quiet. </p><p>Michael moved forward, further out of the car, his bare feet coming close to the ground seeing out of one eye, sweat coating his forehead and neck, his underarms, his chest. "T-That's what you want? You want to decapitate me, throw me into the ocean afterwards and then run away like a scared little boy? Run back to John probably? If you hurt me, think about how he'd react, he'd - he'd be sick with you. Think about our parents."</p><p>Paul closed his eyes for a long minute, took in a breath and took a step forward. "I'm not going to kill you. Kill, kill, kill - I'm tired of hearing it." </p><p>Michael shuddered again, not being able to swallow the glob of  terrified saliva forming in his throat. "Then what are you going to do?" </p><p>"Answer my question first." Paul opened his eyes, still looking mortified. "Are you going to run?" </p><p>Michael inhaled sharply, flight or fight kicking in. Soon enough he found himself five feet away from Paul, sprinting with all his might until he was being grabbed within a mere fifteen seconds. There was a dumb thought in his head where he assumed that he'd get away from Paul, but the other was faster, stronger and God damn <em>insane</em>. Paul threw Michael into the van again, grasping the sock and shoving it back in his brother's mouth with a frustrated look on his face - afterwards the emotions on Paul's face seemed to decrease quite sporadically. Michael screamed out helplessly into the sock, his legs kicking as Paul stared at his flailing limbs with a horrifying glint in his eyes. </p><p><em>No. No. Please, no</em>. </p><p>Paul rolled his sleeves up. Michael just now realized that his hands were gloved.</p><p>Michael kicked his legs relentlessly, his body jerking back as he thrashed, the arm rest digging into his spine as he tried to back up against the door on the other side of the van. Michael kept screaming, his eyes widening and burning with incoming tears, everything going rigid when Paul pulled him forwards again. The blade was in his field of vision, nearing his <em>legs</em>, his <em>kicking</em> legs - what is Paul - <em>what</em> is -</p><p>No, he <em>wouldn't</em>. God he <em>fucking</em> wouldn't. Michael's suffocating. </p><p>He's <em>sick</em>. Paul is fucking - </p><p>Michael vomited when the blade came in contact with his skin, everything going white, his hearing fading as well as his consciousness. </p><p>Blood is everywhere, he can hear it even if he didn't want to. Paul didn't know what he was doing, his face is painted, his clothes - all in red. When he was done Paul placed Michael's feet right next to him, watching as his brother hacked up vomit and choked on his own tears, the sounds of agony exiting from the depths of his soul. Paul wonders if Michael would actually die like this, hell he wonders if Michael would still say anything in the future. Is it even worth wondering at this point though? </p><p> </p><p>John's eyes reopened by the time he was on his eighth missed call from Stuart. Drawing in a deep breath, he sat up in Paul's bed using his forearm, yawning as he slid his phone across the sheets and lifted it up so that he could check the notifications.</p><p>Wait a minute - fuck. It's already going on three? How long was he asleep?</p><p>John rolled himself out of the bed with the sheets wrapping around him as he moved farther towards the side, right up until he was crashing onto the floor in no time. With a soft 'oof' leaving his lips once he collided with the ground, blankets bracing him, John went to go tap on one of the missed call icons so that he could reach out to Stuart again. John hadn't known that he'd get so tired even though he hadn't stayed up too late with Paul, it must've just been something about the man that made him comfortable enough to sleep with him like a log. Or maybe it's because John agreed to being his boyfriend. John's cheeks went rosy at the realization of him and Paul actually being together, eyes gently falling closed again while he waited for Stuart to pick up the phone.</p><p>Despite being hesitant at first, plus him halfway wishing for Paul to play around with a ball in the middle of busy traffic - John surprisingly found himself being pleasantly content in the mix of being a partner of Paul's. From the beginning when they've grown close, it was all he wanted, and he was sure of it despite being told otherwise by Paul himself. John feels as if he could trust the younger from this point on, he feels like they could get far with each other if there's a given chance in the future. John wants every piece of Paul by the end, and he hopes that the feeling is reciprocated on Paul's end. Words like 'I mean it' can come easy to John, but he also wants proof of it instead of being led on into a dead end with nowhere to escape.</p><p>"Stuart? I'm sorry I was asleep."</p><p>"John, thank fuck. I was about to pull out missing poster signs. Cynthia was about to call the police and everything. We thought you were -" Stuart abruptly paused, his voice cracking, everything becoming too much for him to bare as soon as he heard his friend's voice. John grew more alert as soon as the sound of sniffling wormed its way into his hearing, he furrowed his eyebrows together and sat in silence, listening to Stuart gather himself the best he could. "We thought you were gone. One thought led to another, you weren't active, you hadn't called or texted any of us over the last few hours and we just freaked out."</p><p>Gone? John paled, feeling as if he were sitting on ice all of a sudden. The warmth of the blankets turning into something else. "I'm fine, I- you guys thought I was killed or something? No, I'm okay, I'm just with -" John was cut off by a rambling Stuart who'd been rushing to try and correct himself on what he was hinting at.</p><p>"We didn't immediately think you were killed, well at first in a way." There was a swallow, and then a shift as if Stuart was moving around on a couch, a small sound that resembled a tissue being removed from a box. John frowned at that, zoning out at the theory of him being kidnapped and murdered. "Cynthia thought that, but I just thought you were missing or something. I mean nowadays it could mean the same thing since a lot of bodies still haven't been recovered." Stuart explained, his voice being breathy with pure relief before it transitioned into a more authoritative tone that spooked John back into his senses a little bit. "We love you John, by the way. So please don't fucking scare us like that again and actually pick up the phone next time. Where are you anyway?"</p><p>John huffed, cheeks flushing from embarrassment at being lashed out at by Stuart even though the man always seemed a bit more stern towards him, Cynthia's a more let loose type of friend. John squirmed inside of the cocoon of blankets to loosen them up around him, pouting at nothing while Stuart sniffled, still somewhat in the midst of the five steps of mourning, wiping at his teary eyes, "I was getting to that, goodness. I'm sorry for having you two concerned, it wasn't my intentions at all, I just got really tired and I've been spending a lot of time with.. Paul." John immediately followed up with an explanation, hearing the way Stuart was about to snap. "Now, let me explain. I know he did a lot of fucked up things to me but he came back the other day and he's really sorry for what he did. I made sure he knows that too. I don't necessarily forgive him but I know that he means what he's said, and that he's really sorry."</p><p>"Wait, wait, pause. I thought you were done with him. Especially with how upset he made you." Stuart reminded John, making sure that the heartbreak wasn't just a fluke. John knew it wasn't, but his feelings towards Paul were bouncy back then like a blow up bounce castle, he told his friends one thing about Paul and then felt another thing the next hour, all of it becoming a routine until the day the younger man strolled back in Liverpool.</p><p>"Well, I was - but he just - ugh it's complicated. But we're boyfriend's now." John sighed out with a soft look on his face, blushing again when the word rolled off of his tongue, officially flying out into the air with a light touch of pixie dust added onto it.</p><p>An 'oh' from Stuart caught him off guard. "John, what the <em>fuck</em>?" Stuart couldn't help himself, his chest growing hot and his face burning with fiery. "Him? Why him out of all people? God he fucking left you for months after stomping your heart in. Even I wouldn't do something like that to you, and we weren't even <em>serious </em>when we had whatever was going on back then. What if he's just pulling you in to hurt you again? You can't just -"</p><p>"Stuart. I asked him these questions, and I made sure that he gave me a clear reasoning." John said, cutting Stuart off the shift in the conversation going sour. With his voice growing softer, he added on. "And why are you bringing <em>us</em> up Stuart? What we had has nothing to do with him."</p><p>Stuart was uneasily quiet in the meantime which made John think. The older man gave the lingering, sudden silence a few more seconds before he spoke up again. "Yeah, you're right. I don't know where that came from, but I just want the best for you and you know that. I don't like it when people manipulate you and hurt your feelings, then come running back for more, I can just see it happening all of the time with you."</p><p>"I don't let that happen." John said, growing a little offended. "What are you talking about? I always hold people accountable for what they did to me before they can come 'running' back. What are you trying to say?"</p><p>Stuart didn't hold back, he's never the one to sugar coat his opinion anyway. "John, come on, you're dense, naive, ignorant.. and it's clear as day. If you weren't then we wouldn't be having this conversation, and you would not be back with that jackass. Even before Paul, you let so many people in because you're too - fucking nice. Hell, what if Todd was responsible for the rest of the murders too? He probably would have you six feet under already." Stuart paused, and sniffled again while John just sat there quietly seething on the floor. "I'm not trying to upset you John, but if I have to be the one to give you a reality check then so be it."</p><p>John glared darkly at the floor for a long minute, leaving Stuart calling out his name gently. Soon enough he consumed the anger flowing through him, letting his lips twitch upwards in a small, but slightly hurt smile. "Yeah, you're right. I am too nice sometimes." John began in a lax voice. "But I'll be fine because it's my life, and I can make my own decisions and live with the consequences. Personally, I don't think that I'm that opened into letting people hurt me and walk all over me as you would think. If that's how you feel then fine."</p><p>"John -"</p><p>"Where's Cynthia?" John asked him, closing his eyes and sinking onto the floor, suddenly finding himself in another mental slump.</p><p>Stuart huffed, "She's at your house watching the cats. But listen to me, I didn't mean to hurt you when I said that. And don't lie and say, 'no I'm okay' because when you start being agreeable all of a sudden, changing the subject then that means you're mad. I'm just saying that Paul might be not for you since he's hurt you before. Besides he has this weirdness about him anyway that I just can't shake off."</p><p>"Stop talking about him. Just stop it - I'm fine, I'm not mad. Actually, I have to leave and go see what Cynthia is up to actually. As you can hear, I'm alive and well, it's nice to have you guys fret over me but I'm gonna have to leave."</p><p>"Oh, okay. Well, make sure you -" John hung up the phone in the middle of the other's sentence murmuring an annoyed 'shut the fuck up' under his breath as soon as the call was done, the pad of his thumb pressing against the screen harshly as he stared at it. John was more so pissed at the fact that he was called dense and ignorant more than being called naive, he wasn't like that, was he? There's nothing to be naive about anyways, so what was the deal with all of that then? Stuart bringing their past up to put down his and Paul's relationship made him feel just as displeased, very annoyed at the moment with what went down in that phone call. Now Stuart's probably running his mouth to Cynthia, and that's just a whole other world of built up annoyance because Cynthia wouldn't go at him, but at Paul instead.</p><p>John's not sure that Paul likes Cynthia. There's this look of disgust on his face every time he comes near her or anytime John mentions her name. Hopefully everything is not as dramatic as it would seem.</p><p>Sighing out in slight agitation and standing up on his two feet, John placed his phone on the nightstand before turning towards the messiness of Paul's bed. Grasping at the blankets, John began to ease the sheets over the mattress, neartly and very delicate as he hummed lightly to an imaginary song in his head. After plopping the pillows, John began fixing the pillow cases, placing them down correctly onto the bed before smoothening out the sheets with both of his hands, making sure everything was alright, no overlaps and wrinkles. "Yeah, he's going to love seeing his room cleaned like this." John murmured to himself, his brown eyes glistening with the sudden gleam of uncertainty when he looked around the bedroom.</p><p>"Okay, shower time."</p><p>Right now John's hands are threading through his hair as the warm water trickled down his body, the floral scent of shampoo causing him to exhale softly, eyes fluttering closed as the shampoo nourished at his scalp. Stuart may be right. Not only is he too nice, John easily forgets the things he's mad at when he's at a different mental state other than what he was in before he clambered into the shower. The feeling of his fingers massaging his scalp felt better than to overthink about what Stuart said, Stuart's tears and thoughts - but it's graceful that he has time to gather himself before he goes out, walking home possibly. Before John got into the shower he texted Paul and told him that he was going to go home, John reasoned to himself that Paul would end up a bit confused from his sudden disappearance so warning his boyfriend in advance would be a good idea.</p><p>Paul still hadn't texted him back, but he seen the message.</p><p>John took a peek at his phone, parting the curtains a little bit as he peered at the device. In his defense of being slightly obsessive, he was deeply wondering if Paul was forming up a sentence or if he was busy conferencing with Michael to actually send back another text. It's not his fault that he's so peeky, the man literally vanished on him a few months ago.</p><p>Shampoo was beginning to get into his eyes. John squealed out, immediately rinsing his hair and eyes out.</p><p>When John made it outside of Paul's home after closing the door behind himself, he immediately stopped aside from the driveway and stared to his right with quizzical eyes.</p><p>"Huh? His car is still here." John said lightly to himself, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as he ran his hand along the hood of Paul's car. Thoughts pouring in, he continued to circle around the car for a bit with a look of growing suspicion. "That doesn't make any sense. Unless he wanted to save gas or something, how did he get to the -"</p><p>"John?"</p><p>John gasped, drawing away from the car as soon as he heard his name being called by someone, gosh he must've looked like a full blown nuthead. George was the one who said his name, thankfully, the man was holding a square box of donuts, looking as if he was going to share it with someone. John blushed with his hands immediately flying up in protest, parting his lips to immediately begin explaining himself on why he was snooping around Paul's car until George beat him to it. "Are you looking for Paul? I see you're at his house and his car is here, so he should be around here somewhere as well. That's kind of strange."</p><p>"Oh! No, no, no, he went to go and see his brother. I'm leaving to go see my friend, she's watching my cats. I was just wondering why his car is still -"</p><p>George's eyes widened, "Wait a minute you have cats?" He has a fleeting memory of Paul staring fondly at cat hair on his shirt when the two of them met up together one day, George remembers a small tint of pink on Paul's cheeks along with a small smile as he held the strand of cat hair in between his fingers. Oh so that explains it. George nears John, donut box still in his arms as he rushes over towards John with a bright smile on his face and endearing eyes. "Can I come with you to your home? We can share these donuts together since Paul's not here. You said he was visiting Michael right? That's his brother's name, he's really nice, I think you'll meet him soon."</p><p>"Woah, slow down there, will you?" John chuckled out shyly, lowering his hands as George nodded in and ducked his head in embarrassment from his enthusiastic outburst. "Yes you can come with me. I think you've met Cynthia before anyway, but um things are a bit tense at the moment, so don't mind whatever she says."</p><p>George nodded, his eyes big. "Okay." Twirling around, he reached back and  grappled at John's hand as his other arm continued to hoist the donut box up. "I think we can take the bus, it's not too far from here anyway. Gosh it's a coincidence that we both ended up here around the same time, right?" </p><p>John followed him, matching George's stride. "Yeah, it is. I spent the night over here actually." </p><p>"Oh really? Did you two have fun?" </p><p>John blushed at that question since it triggered a bunch of memories from the day before, making him feel shy all of a sudden until George gave his hand an encouraging squeeze, the younger looking over at him with a pure smile. "Yeah we um - we talked about things. Most of the things were just about us and what now, you know? I guess that's what it was. But afterwards we just watched movies, went to sleep, etcetera." </p><p>"Oh, he actually <em>talked</em> to you? Wow, Paul's really gone through a metamorphosis, hasn't he? I never knew he hosted sleepovers again, I oughta kick his ass." George said with a small chuckle, half joking, but not really thinking too deep into it to be that serious anyways. John giggled at that, growing more flustered than he already had been seconds before. "So if you don't mind me asking," George began as he slowed down his pace since they were on the pavement across the street from Paul's home, the warm, spring blessed beam of the sun boarding down the walk towards the bus stop long ahead of them. "What did you two talk about?" </p><p>John fidgeted nervously, his lips twitching up into a small smile. "Well, since you two are like childhood friends, I don't want to make you jealous or anything sooo -" He trailed off purposely with a small smile, and a lingering blush on his cheeks which had left George on the edge of the mental thought cliff, making him tug desperately at his hand with widened eyes of curiosity. </p><p>"No, no, no tell me please. Just tell me, I won't get jealous, I promise you." </p><p>"Hmm." </p><p>Now George was blushing, still tugging at John's hand. "If you think I ever had a crush on Paul in my lifetime then you're not all the way wrong but it only lasted for an hour, and I was only seventeen. Never again did it happen so I definitely won't get jealous." </p><p>John busted out laughing, his smile beautiful. "<em>Okay</em>, okay. Basically he apologized for hurting me. In a way, he apologized to both of us. I believe he meant it too so that's that. What came with the apology was him basically asking for me to be his boyfriend, and I said yes, we made love then took a shower together - it was really.. it was really nice."</p><p>George was in genuine awe as he gawked at John, his heart swelling up in adoration towards both Paul and John. Gosh he wished he could see the expression on Paul's face right now as John basically confessed what happened between them last night. "Really? You and Paul - you two are <em>together</em> now? Woah, I'm so happy for you guys. I think this makes me the single, awkward third wheeler now." George said with a wide smile on his face, he's proud of his Paul, but he's also a bit taken back that Paul has a fucking boyfriend now. The most closed off person he could ever run into in his lifetime managed to cop a boyfriend, that's literally fucking insane to him. </p><p>"Thanks." John chirped out happily, eyes sparkling prettily on cue as the sun beamed down on him. George has to look away from him before he blurts something jokingly embarrassing out about how Paul is lucky as fuck and John should deeply think about giving him a chance if Paul ever fucks up. Hell they're already holding hands together. </p><p>Clearing his throat with a soft blush, George looked ahead with a small smile. "So um.. have you've gotten a call from anybody lately? Like Ringo?" </p><p>John blinked,  quickly looking a bit lost at that question as he furrowed his eyebrows in sudden confusion. "No, well, at least I don't think so. Should I be expecting one from him? I don't remember giving him my number or anything." </p><p>"Yeah, Brian kind of made a psa with us earlier, he said he wants everyone to exchange numbers so that it could be easier to reach each other, give intell, all of that." George said, lying through his teeth, but he didn't want to fully admit to John that he just gave Richard his number without actual consent. It's messy, but he didn't want to start anything unnecessary.</p><p>"Oh. I haven't heard of him doing that. If he did make a psa, why wouldn't he tell me? That's so weird of him." </p><p>George hummed, "Maybe he just didn't have the time to." </p><p>John looked at George with an innocent gaze, holding a finger up to his chin as he tapped on it in thought. "Yesterday he spoke to me and Paul, maybe it's because he was too busy flirting with me to remember. I'll ask him about it later whenever I see him again." </p><p>"In the meantime though -" George swiftly changed the subject, going into something much more comfortable for the both of them. "Do you want to hear embarrassing stories about Paul when we were little? I doubt he'd tell you any of these, but I have a stash of them. I can tell you a bunch of them while we're on the bus." </p><p>"Oh, yes of course!"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Chapter 32</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Hi Mittens!" John squealed out, kneeling down to brush his hand against his cats face, thumbs brushing lightly against the soft fur. "My little princess, look at you. Daddy missed you baby, c'mere gimme kisses." John softly cooed, his hands brushing along his cat's backside while Mittens purred lightly against his cheek as he pulled her in close. George looked at the two other cats in awe, unknowingly beaming in delight at their cute little meows and the sight of their tails swaying gently as they trotted over towards their owner. John giggled softly, flopping onto his bottom, letting his cats walk all over him with glistening eyes of adoration, happy to see his pets again after a few long days. "Hi Rocky, did you miss me too? And look at you, Mia, you've finally came around."</p><p>"They're so cute." George said with a smile on his face, leaning down to let Mia sniff curiously at his palm, wanting the scent of the stranger. "Gosh look at their fur, they're all different breeds, all of them are so beautiful. I love cats."</p><p>Mittens blinked George, tilting her head curiously.</p><p>John smiled bashfully, looking up at the younger man with a bright look in his eyes that made George's smile even wider. With his chest swelling a bit in pride from George's cat compliments, John shifted into a squatting position, gathering Mittens in his arms as the other cats began to casually sniff at each other. "Mittens, this spoiled girl right here loves Paul than she loves me sometimes. Whenever Paul comes over, Mittens is always cuddling up to him, acting like I don't exist. The other cats - they don't really do that, sometimes they do but usually they stay away from us."</p><p>George is stunned, his eyebrows raising. "Mittens isn't scared or bothered around him? She actually likes Paul?" He questions before he could stop himself, making John look at him with a confused expression on his face, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked back down at Mittens in a scrutinizing way. George immediately backtracks, one hand off of the donut box, finding itself scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. "What I mean by that is because a lot of other animals, and sometimes babies are scared of being around Paul. It's as if his mere presence just makes them extremely unsettled for some reason. It's kind of strange."</p><p>Wait what? "Oh he never told me -" John's voice and thoughts were simultaneously cut off by fierce footsteps, causing his attention to avert over towards the direction of where ever the sounds came from. George looked ahead as well, forgetting that someone else was in the house with the two of them, one of the main reasons he decided to tag along with John anyway. Standing up straight, wobbling a little, John braced himself when Cynthia came into view with a messy bun and formal clothes as if she was ready to go to work. George looked over at John, then back at Cynthia with a small and amused smile on his face.</p><p>"John. I have to go to work in thirty minutes. Me and you need to talk, now." Cynthia firmly said, earning a small gulp of fear from her best friend, a second later Cynthia's face had softened. "Oh hey <em>you</em>! It's been a long time, my goodness. Aren't you Paul's friend? I remember you coming into the coffee shop and making poor John all flustered, what's your name again? I'm sorry."</p><p>"George, George Harrison. It's fine by the way, there's so many unique names out there, George seems kind of forgetful lately." The man answered, his face lighting up as he remembered he had food in his hands. "I have donuts! Maybe while you two have your talk you can dig in. I'm just going to be here probably playing with the cats or something."</p><p>John put Mittens down, her tail curling affectionately around his ankle once she was gently settled onto the floor. "I'll take the box." John said, holding his hands out as George placed the food into the older's grasp. "Oh and George, do you like art? I have a little study room, studio - whatever you call it. There's a lot of art stuff you can do in there if you like. I'll join you soon."</p><p>"Oh, um." George's cheeks reddened a little, feeling flattered for some reason, the small reference of whether or not he does art making nostalgia bloom within his body. "Yeah, I do a lot of art. I'll be in the study room then." The pretty smile he got from John afterwards made George rethink his life, and with an exchange as to where the study room is, John was already on his way with Cynthia. George watched as the two of them left together before looking over at Mittens whom was staring at him observantly, basically ignoring all of the other cats circling her, the animal's attention had been on George for the last two minutes.</p><p>George smiled at her, nearing the pet and bending over with his hand being outstretched to brush her fur. Mittens watched his hand go near, then looked back at George with slitted pupils, face scrunching up, back arching upwards and her tail puffing out as she hissed out at him aggressively. George jerked his hand back, confused, and wide eyed with not so much awe towards the cat anymore. The hissing sounds sent Rocky and Mia into a world of confusion, both of the other cats stopping what they were doing to stare absently at their third partner.</p><p>"The fuck." George muttered under his breath, leaning up and taking a few steps back from the seething cat to slowly walk away from it. That's weird. <em>Hm, what a weird cat. </em></p><p>Cynthia dropped her body onto the bed, opening the box of donuts and grabbing two of them angrily. "Where the actual fuck have you been? Do you think playing with my emotions is some type of game, especially with what's going on right now John? You know I was close to calling your mom, right? Do you know how awkward that would have been?" As the girl poured her emotions out into a heap of questions, John chewed at the inside of his cheek a sign of coping with being snapped at, distractedly fiddling with his phone which had vibrated suddenly in his hand. Cynthia glared at him, taking a small bite of the donut. "I thought you died, dummy. You have a lot of explaining to do."</p><p>John fidgeted in genuine disappointment towards himself, releasing the flesh of his cheek from in between his teeth. "I'm really sorry about that Cynthia. I didn't mean to worry both you and Stuart. I was just too distracted with someone and time just ticked away." When he thought deeper about it, he made the comparison of him ghosting his friends and Paul ghosting him. Obviously he didn't leave for months after hurting their feelings, but the abruptness of his lack of response towards his friends did have its similarities with Paul's issue.</p><p>Cynthia sighed in exasperation, slumping her shoulders and staring at her friend in subtle relief that he was okay. "Who John? Who were you so distracted with that made you not answer anyone's text or calls? Go ahead and tell me."</p><p>John shied away from her, his eyes growing big with hesitation as he shook his head. Immediately he got agitated, "You're going to be mad at me. I bet you're going to call me dense and naive, watch. I'm not telling you, Stuart should tell you."</p><p>Cynthia's facial expression softened, not used to John genuinely refusing to tell her things. "John just tell me. I won't say that, what the hell? Did Stuart say that to you?" She asked in a gentle voice, inwardly cursing Stuart out at the back of her head for being so straightforward and fucking blunt. John looked elsewhere, feeling truly embarrassed at this point. When the clues began to piece together, Cynthia's eyebrows raised and her voice lowered into a whisper as if someone was listening to something that they shouldn't be listening to. "Wait. Oh my God, John, were you with Paul this whole time?"</p><p>"I was going to tell you, okay? I promise. Things just got really chaotic, and I was too wrapped up in my own motion of emotions towards Paul to really alert you guys about him coming back. The first thing I did when he came back was attempt to punch him, it wasn't easy. I know you might think I'm dumb for letting him in again, but I love him and he loves me so -" Cynthia cut John off with a palm gently slapping against his mouth, a small sound of surprise eliciting as Cynthia shushed him harshly.</p><p>"Shut up. God, John, I'm not mad at you about Paul. You could have told me earlier. Although I don't agree with your decision, I'm not going to belittle you and make you feel like an idiot for giving him another chance. This is your first relationship in awhile, and honestly? Me and Stuart don't know him enough to actually make a complaint." Cynthia explained, removing her hand from John's mouth as soon as she was finished. "So ignore what he said, he's - with you he's always been sketchy like that. But it's only because he still finds himself thinking about you, and he still likes you in <em>that</em> way too."</p><p>John blinked, lips parting in surprise but not surprise. "Oh."</p><p>"Yeah, but that's that. Just don't listen to him okay? You're fine, but if you see a red flag then you should act on it in a way that you think is best." Cynthia shrugged her shoulders, playfully rolling her eyes. "Listen, I forgive you for up and leaving, but make sure you check your notifs next time. I have to leave soon, but I love you okay? Give me a call if you need something."</p><p>John nodded his head quietly, pressing his lips together, looking a bit downcast as Cynthia hugged him. Red flag. What could Paul do to make him assume that there's a red flag? While Cynthia took two more donuts with her, bundling them up in a napkin before grasping at her purse to go ahead and leave out, John lifted his phone up to his face to check the notification he got from earlier. Opening the messaging app, he murmured what was sent softly under his breath with squinted eyes.</p><p>Instead of expecting a message back from his boyfriend, it was from Brian instead.</p><p>
  <em>Hey, call me real fast.</em>
</p><p>John narrows his eyes in suspicion at the demand, but he presses the phone icon anyway, holding his phone up to his ear as he reaches forward to grasp at a donut. What does Brian want now? John doesn't mind him or anything, but he always feels a little unsettled when Brian is the one he's interacting with. After two long rings that made John mentally argue with himself on whether or not he should cancel the call, Brian immediately picked up the phone with some type of excitement in his voice. "Hey beautiful, about time you called me. I was about to be the one to call you but that would have been unnecessary right? Seemed a bit obsessive, or possessive? Is that the right word?"</p><p>"Brian, what do you want?" John asked him with an unintentional whine in his voice, not really meaning to draw Brian's name out so petulantly like that. The hearty laugh he got in return from the older man made his cheeks turn pink from embarrassment.</p><p>"Just checking in on you. I want to know if you've been well you know, if anything happened to a gem like you," Brian sighed out dramatically, sitting back in his office chair with his forearm covered his eyes, the image of John literally in his head despite him being playful at the moment. "I wouldn't know what to do with myself."</p><p>"Can you stop?" John gritted out despite feeling flustered. "I dare you to say the same thing to anyone else, and I bet you wouldn't. So stop doing it with me, plus, Paul doesn't like it when you talk to me like that."</p><p>"Doesn't really matter what he likes. <em>You</em> like it."</p><p>John made a shocked noise, afraid to deny it, afraid to speak on it at all actually. "Seriously Brian, do yourself a favor and shut up."</p><p>"Anyways, come on, fill me in. How are you and Paul?"</p><p>"Well, we made it official after you talked to us in the library." John said in a breathy voice to make the statement seem like an echo through Brian's mind, tonguing at the inside of his cheek. There was a minimal silence on the other end of the line as he expected.</p><p>"Well isn't <em>he</em> a lucky man." Brian smirked, making sure that his voice was sly.</p><p>Walking into his house from the backdoor, Paul placed down the bag of tools he used for his wrong doings with a tired exhale. Right afterwards, he took his shirt off, throwing it into the bag as well and fumbled carelessly at his fly. To be honest, he's been out for a long while since it looks like sunset is on its way around the corner, so soon enough he could pick John up from his home and bring him back here. Paul really just wants John to be around him, when news breaks, he's going to force himself into a mask he hadn't put on in a long time - hopefully it works out. Paul walks over towards his basement door with a soft hum, trying not to let his thoughts get to him too much about what he's done to his brother.</p><p>Paul freezes.</p><p>God why did he run back to the van? Why did he -</p><p>"<em>Fuck, fuck, come on. Stay with me now. I'm sorry Michael, I'm so sorry." Paul breathed out under his breath, tearing Michael's shirt off, ripping it in half to wrap the cloth around his legs. Michael was shaking uncontrollably, teetering on full on convulsing as he screamed out in pure agony, tears rolling down his cheeks as he coughed and struggled to capture his breath. The shock was gone, all that is there is cold, hot pain that shreds through him within each and every touch. </em></p><p>
  <em>Michael shook and trembled, his hands flexed against the seats as he let out a coherent plead that shot straight into Paul's heart. "D-Don't, please." His voice shook, cracking, coated with pain. Paul flinched back, unsure of what to do since Michael was bleeding out profusely, fuck he could die right here just from blood loss. Paul should just leave, let whatever happens happen but for some reason he couldn't leave this boy suffering like this. God he couldn't leave Michael here at all without having someone come and help him in some type of way. There location wasn't too closed off, so somebody can hear his screams and try to treat him. Paul just needs to leave. </em>
</p><p>When Paul ends up from the dark space of his basement, he found himself sitting in the shower, knees up to his chest with the knife glistening in his hands. Right now he could smell the darkness literally begin to envelop him, going from day to day, not really being able to himself. All he knows is that John has to be ready for this in a way, nothing is really going to be particularly pretty from this point on, as long as his self control continues to go down hill. Paul blinks slowly, turning his hand so that the backside faced him, he pressed the knife against his skin and pressed down, drawing it across his flesh slowly. Tensing up, and clenching his teeth together to cope with the pain, he watched closely as his skin began to peel apart under the knife before stopping when the blood came out a little too much.</p><p>
  <span class="u">7:45 pm</span>
</p><p>"Paul? Are you alright?" George asked softly once he opened the door, he could see that the look in his friend's eyes were back. Paul twisted his lips to the side, looking down at the floor for a little bit before nodding his head slowly, taking a few steps forward so that he could be inside of the home. George hummed gently, closing the door behind him while Paul looked up from the floor to glance around John's home, sliding his bandaged hand into his pocket. "Well, since you were hanging out with Michael today, it was mainly me and John sticking together throughout the evening. He fell asleep in the study room not too long ago. It's getting late anyways so -"</p><p>"I hope you two had fun." Paul said with a small smile on his face, looking at George with a fond gaze. "He's such a lovely guy to be around, right? And you are too. What a dynamic duo."</p><p>George blushed a bit, getting shy all of a sudden. Paul watched as he scratched at his head, head hanging low with a pink color pouring into his cheeks. "I mean, it's kind of our first time really spending time together so I guess you can call it a dynamic duo, or whatever fits."</p><p>"Right." Paul had gently replied with a small head tilt, reaching over and pinching George's cheek without warning, making the younger swat at him with a squeak. Paul sized him up before heading further down the hall with a flustered George following behind him, Rocky and Mia freezing up and staying still when Paul wordlessly walked past them. When the two of them trekked into John's study room, the sight before him was accurate enough according to George's explanation. The auburn haired man was lying on his back asleep on the floor, Mittens resting by his legs, lucky enough he was comfortable with the blanket snuggled around him. As Paul came close to him, he peered down at the man, taking in how gorgeous he looked with his hair falling gorgeously over his eyes, lips being slightly parted as his chest rose and fell with the soft breaths he took.</p><p>George looks at Paul, then looks back at John before moving in closer behind him and settling his chin on the other man's shoulder. "He's really pretty by the way. You're very lucky to have someone like him Paul, and I think he really cares about you."</p><p>Paul's eyes fluttered closed. "I know. I'm glad he's mine." He replied, a tremor in his voice that made George's eyes furrow in slight concern for a split second. Telling himself not to get too worked up about Paul's dismissiveness, he sighed and took a step back from his friend. Paul noticed, but he didn't say anything about it, instead he sunk his hands into his pockets. "It's getting really late. I want him to come home with me."</p><p>"I can leave if you want me to."</p><p>"No, it'll be easier if I take him home." Paul replied in a small voice, he also wanted to do a couple of things to John at the moment, let off some steam actually. "You wouldn't have to take the bus or anything, just let me take him home, it's all fine."<br/><br/><br/></p><p>John twisted onto his backside with a soft sound escaping his lips, eyes fluttering opened when Paul slid a hand underneath his shirt, kissing gently at the soft skin of his neck. "Paul? What are you doing? When did you - what time is it?" John asked with a soft rasp in his voice, his breath hitching lightly when he noticed how bare Paul's skin felt against his wandering hands. Paul mumbled something inaudible against his skin, littering kisses up to the older's jawline moving between John's legs before the other man even knew it. John in the meantime whines out in exhaustion, heat flowing through when the pressure of Paul's tongue licks a stripe along his neck and he pushes gently at Paul's shoulder, "Wait, what are you even saying?"</p><p>Paul peeled away from John after taking a whiff the older's scent, barely centimeters apart from him, his eager lips ghosting feverishly over John's skin. When he spoke, voice low and dark, John shuddered with a soft noise of kindling, his back bowing off of the bed a bit when Paul heaved his leg up and over his waist. "It's four in the morning. Doesn't really matter though."</p><p>"Paul -" John muttered, eyes heavy as he felt the buttons undo, the front of his shirt drifting open with the help of Paul's hand. Blushing now from the way Paul's hands brushed against his bare chest, John looked to the side when the lamp beside them flickered on, his eyes glistening at the bottle of lubricant already set aside - so Paul's been awake for a long time now, John briefly assumes that the younger most likely took him home while he was napping. Paul tugs at his waistband of his pants and underwear, his hazel eyes glistening with a look of <em>hunger</em>, a dark shine of possessiveness that made John somewhat flinch when Paul's hands abruptly parted his legs opened. "Paul," John began again, more awake with his eyebrows furrowed. "You -"</p><p>"It's late. Just relax baby, I got you." Paul replied to him in a soft hush, the genuine promise in his voice not exactly reaching his bruised soul. "Fuck," Paul spat under his breath, chest growing heavy as his hands ran along John's soft legs, his thick thighs to the inner part and then upwards to lightly caress his balls which causes the older to elicit a quiet moan, "You look so beautiful in this light." The man continued, his fingers stroking him, the touch being feather light as his palm began to brush along his boyfriend's hardening cock. John does look brilliant. The lamp exercising a yellowish low dim, painting John's skin beautifully, messy but heavenly soft auburn colored hair splayed out gorgeously above his eyebrows and twinkling brown eyes that stared up at Paul in growing lust, his scattered freckles that painted his thighs up to his arms and flustered face coming into play which began to suck the air away from Paul's lungs.</p><p>"<em>Oh</em>," John's voice trembled already as he released a soft noise, legs parting even more opened as Paul kept talking to him, soft lips pressing wetly along his legs. "Paul, baby, please." God he couldn't help himself when he gets hot like this. John's eyes fell closed, mouth opened as he started panting out in growing pleasure when the sensations of Paul's mouth closed in on the head of his cock, tongue brushing knowingly against frenulum which made John's head spin. "Ah -" John cried out in a breathy voice, hips jolting upwards as Paul took him in his mouth all the way, fully hardened at this point. It only worsened in the goodness way possible when the man pulled off of him only seconds afterwards, nuzzling his parted, wet mouth against the base of John's cock, tongue eagerly working along the shaft.</p><p>Whatever had Paul up and active at four am seemed pretty impactful. John felt gushy inside in no time, shivering against the sheets, with one hand dug into the pillow above him and the other hand holding onto Paul's, fingers laced. Paul transitioned to scissoring John open with ease for ten minutes, making him cum several times throughout the preparation and then making John embarrassed when Paul thoroughly licked the mess off of his stomach like a psycho. John shuddered, his hands squeezing onto Paul's, jaw dropping in ecstasy when Paul fucked hisself inside of him to the hilt, the tight heat making his hips stutter immediately despite himself.</p><p>John's legs trembled as they pressed against Paul's waist, his shirt continuing to fall open giving Paul the opportunity to lean down and drag his tongue along the older's nipple, cashing off a sharp hiss from underneath him. Paul's other hand grasped at John's waist, nails digging into his skin, the grip bruising and fucking tight whilst he thrusted in <em>deep</em> into his boyfriend. John couldn't breathe right, close to blacking out as the pressure built up inside of him, his moans breaking into different octaves, being fucked relentlessly into the mattress. Paul watched breathlessly as John unfolded, jerking amongst the sheets in time with his thrusts, his muscles tightening and then relaxing while his chest heaved up and down beautifully - fuck fuck <em>fuck</em>.</p><p>"Paul, oh - <em>fuck</em>, Paul keep talking, please - I can't," John yelped out in a broken voice, his hips twisting, cock dribbling, strung, hot and <em>overstimulated</em> against his stomach, a pathetic high pitched moan ripping through his throat which made his blood crumble, face red with embarrassment and everything unholy. John caught his breath after whining out incoherent praises, suddenly sounding shy and hesitant despite begging Paul to be more savage with him when they're fucking, which was literally a few seconds ago. "I want to hear you talk."</p><p>Paul let up his thrusts with a blushing red face of his own, still fucking him against the bed hard enough to make John whimper out shakily, his eyes narrowed and green. Paul lifted up their held hands, kissing the knuckles of John's hand as he stared down into his eyes, mumbling loud enough against the skin of his hand: "I'll fuck you until you leak with my cum, baby. Is that what you want to hear? You like being used like a toy? Ready to give it up just so you can make a mess all over yourself? I bet you can't get off unless someone is fucking into you until you beg," Paul held his position, cock deep inside of John as he leant down so that their chests pressed against each other, "like the dirty little slut you are."</p><p>John's feeling like he's fucking flying, his usual innocence thrown out of the window and replaced by a growing build up of need as he begins to ramble out, naughty words just eagerly flying out his mouth. "Cum in me please, make a mess in me, please, I need it."</p><p>Paul groaned softly, his bruising grip on John's waist tightening, making the older wince harshly with a light cry of pain. For the first time in his life, marriage pops up in Paul McCartney's head during the activities of sex. "Fuck," Paul couldn't help himself from spitting, having no actual choice but to cut John off in mid sentence of another rundown of what he wants Paul to do to him right now. The fact that Paul was deciding, hell the fact that he even began acting on the thought of killing John, just generally being on the brink of ending this man's life at one point made him very disturbed - because John is a fucking gem.</p><p>"Paul," John mewled out, squirming underneath him as Paul sat up again, smirking slightly as his boyfriend made a desperate noise at the sudden separation. "I'm getting close, can you just - <em>please</em>."</p><p>"You want to cum?"</p><p>"Yes -" John sung, body thrumming with sparks of hotness, stimulation ricocheting, his back arching, once he noticed Paul's other hand left his hips, suddenly tugging on his cock. Paul couldn't get over how beautiful John looks below him, touching him like this, fucking him until he's teary and garbled, desperately wanting to cum. God the thought of <em>someone else</em> having him like this crossed his mind before he could even stop it - </p><p>First person that popped up into his head was Brian.</p><p>Paul hovered over him with dark eyes, heaving John's leg upwards so that it almost touched his chest, pinning him down and fucking into him ruthlessly to a point the bed was ramming against the wall. Sounds of their skin, John's rising moans, and the heart beat of his own thrummed throughout Paul's ear bones, he lost his mind at this point, chasing his own orgasm while John's already teetered at the edge. John came hard with a hard tremor, absolutely losing his voice as his cock spurted out onto his stomach, he hadn't even noticed that his hand found its way onto Paul's arms - scratching and tugging at Paul's skin as he shook from head to toe. </p><p>What pushed Paul to the edge was when John called out his name, dizzy and milky with a misty haze of coming down. John's voice was wrecked, drawing out the vowels cutely, right along with his hole clamping down on Paul's cock on cue, making the drag an indescribable feeling. "Shit, <em>John</em>, fuck." Paul cursed breathlessly before breaking out into small pants, and dropping his head in exhaustion, sweat trickling from his forehead, and his hips stuttering as he released himself inside of John. It felt so good it burned. </p><p>John twitched, with a soft grunt of satisfaction at the feeling of his insides being flooded, his brown eyes growing heavy again. His body was warm when he reached out to touch his boyfriend. God, his hand was shaking, he could feel his legs shake too, it was embarrassing to him because it's so obvious how spent he was just from being fucked. </p><p>Paul moved in to his touch, suddenly vulnerable as he laid himself down on top of John's flushed body, breathing cautiously against the crook of his neck. "Didn't mean to wake you up like that." Paul muttered lowly against his skin, "Hope it wasn't too much."</p><p>"I think I'll be a bit sore in the morning, but it's fine. I'm just more tired than I already was." John replied softly, his fingers carding through Paul's hair, massaging gently at his scalp while he shifted his sore legs so that they hooked over Paul's. "How was your day with Michael? You were out for a long time and I was getting kind of worried because you weren't answering my texts." </p><p>"I didn't see him."</p><p>"What? I thought you were with him this whole time." John grew a little confused, watching as Paul nonchalantly lifted his head so that his chin was resting on his forearm, staring almost innocently into John's eyes if you didn't take what they did into account. John stared at him, very lost. "Where did you go then?"</p><p>"I was looking for him all day. It stressed me out and I was getting upset so - I basically took it out on you. Which was the healthiest way I can take it out possible." Paul muttered, shifting a bit so that his weight wasn't really on John anymore. "In the morning, do you think I should call the police so that they could look for him?" </p><p>"No, Paul, if he's missing then you should call them now! What if he's hurt or - what if he's killed possibly!" John freaked out with widened eyes, sitting up on the bed as if he was going to rush to grab his phone to make some type of phone call to Brian or 911.</p><p>Shit. </p><p> Paul had suddenly pulled him back down onto the bed by grasping harshly at his wrist, a scary grip on his arm that made John squeak out in surprise. This wasn't a rough, manhandle grip that Paul used on him minutes earlier, it seemed kind of - threatening? John looked into Paul's eyes with a confused look, seeing something a little unrecognizable that kind of turned him off. </p><p>"John, we can't call them now, okay? Listen I <em>know</em> my brother, but me and him have not had the best relationship. So I'll give it to next morning on whether or not he'll show up again, if not we can call the police." </p><p>"But Paul, what if he's hurt -" John was cut off with the way Paul tightened his grip on his wrist, a soft sound of genuine pain exiting his lips. </p><p>"What did I say John?" </p><p>Oh. </p><p>John blinked at him in disbelief, his breath catching fearfully in his throat. There's that look in his eyes again, fuck. John doesn't like that. "Paul, you're hurting me."</p><p>Paul blinked at him, immediate regret and disgust making him feel queasy all of a sudden.  Releasing his grip on John's wrist and seeing the small bruise already forming, Paul pulled a speechless John close to him, arms draped around his waist. "I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to hold onto you like that. It's just a really sensitive subject, like I said, it stresses me out and it makes me want to take it out on people sometimes."</p><p>John hummed gently, looking distantly at the bruise on his wrist. Paul cursed at himself for slipping up, his jaw clenched and his hate for himself growing strong. "Yeah, I get it. I didn't mean to stress you out again, especially after doing what we did. Let's just wash up and then go to sleep, yeah?"</p><p>Paul inhaled, eyes wet. "Yeah."</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>